Yosemite Decimal
by MagTwi78
Summary: Bella has nailed her dream job as Seattle Times' newest Outdoors writer. She's found new friends and is settling into life in her new city. Things are coming together for her, but an arrogant stranger sends her reeling at every turn. Will her new life be as comfortable as she'd hoped, or is she set for a rocky ride? AH B&E M COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: Yosemite Decimal System

**A/N:** This is it! I've posted my first fic! This is the result of a plot bunny after someone on Twitter mentioned how cool it would be to have a RockClimbingWard. Well, here he is!

Huge thanks and hugs to my PTB betas, BelleDuJour, GossipLips and RaindropSoup. To my pre-readers TwiSNFan and Louisemc86: this would never have seen the light of day without you. I may have tweaked before posting, so all mistakes are mine.

I don't own Twilight. I do own a well-worn, dog-eared book of climbing quotes.

**Chapter 1**

**Yosemite Decimal System (YDS)** - n. the most common system used to rate difficulty in the North America. Most technical rock climbing is rated on a scale of 5.0 to 5.15 with higher numbers representing harder climbs. Grades are generally subject to the weather, length of the route, the type of rock, and the whims of the first ascensionist.

Definition amended from rockclimbing dot com

**BPOV**

Every first day is the same. Whether it's your first day of elementary school, your first day at high school, your first day at your new high school, first day at college, or your first day at your first real job, they are all the same. In climbing, if you're first, you get to name it and grade it. I call today, 'New Online Writer, Seattle Times': 5.12.

Today is rather different from my first day as a journalism student at the University of Arizona. For example at U of A, I wasn't having nearly this much trouble deciding what to wear. My reflection fidgets back at me—wide, brown eyes taking in my black pencil skirt and cream cotton shirt combo. U of A dorm room reflection was comfortable in skinny jeans, a tank top, and beaten up Chucks. Seattle reflection is wondering how the hell she's going to survive a day in these heels.

Deciding that my look is as good as it's going to get, I put on some light makeup, pull my long mousy-brown hair into a high ponytail, and stuff my high heels into my oversized purse before donning my Chucks. I wrap myself in a knit cardigan and hurry out of my two-bedroom apartment, locking the door behind me.

With my new favorite album filling the cab of my truck, I tap my so-short fingernails on the steering wheel. Said fingernails are like this due to my lifelong nervous habit of biting them, and out of necessity for my weekend endeavors. My palms are calloused and scratched. They bear the scars of ancient injuries, and a few recent ones. The lovely, silvery line across my right palm is evidence of a rope-burn I sustained as a senior in high school. I smile at the memory—one of my first outdoor trips with my Quileute friends on the Olympic Peninsula.

Growing up in Forks, Washington was a happy time. I was born there and lived in the small town with my parents until the age of seven, when they divorced. From there, I went to Phoenix with my mother, Renee, where we stayed until she remarried halfway through my junior year of high school. Then, my free-spirited, dizzy-as-a-wheel, dearest mother moved with new husband to Florida. It was then that I returned to the NorthWest to finish out my high school years with Charlie: Forks' Chief of Police, enthusiastic fisherman, and most importantly, my dad.

It was in Forks that I truly discovered my love of the outdoors. I had loved living in Phoenix, but growing up in the city meant that organized sports were the standard for physical activity, including one ill-fated semester of ballet lessons when I was nine. My inability to walk successfully across a flat surface without finding something to trip over, however, called for my participation to be limited to compulsory PE classes.

When I went to live with my outdoorsy dad, I found a passion in exploring the lush, green environment around Forks. Activities demanding hand-eye coordination not being my forte, I really grew into my own in the plethora of outdoor options the Northwest had to offer. Weekend hiking, camping, and exploring the beaches around La Push gave me exposure to things I found I could actually do. With the encouragement of my Native American friends, and supplemented by the income and staff discount I received at my after-school job at Newton's Outfitters, I discovered my true home. Where on the horizontal, flat pavements of the city I had two left feet, I found I could shine on the vertical, abrasive rock surfaces of the mountain cliffs in the Olympic Peninsula. There, on the rock, I was graceful, agile, and strong.

It's my love of the outdoors that has brought my back to Washington. After finishing my degree in Journalism in Arizona two years ago, I have spent my time travelling and blogging freelance for Arizona tourism websites. I've also written the odd article or two for various climbing and outdoor magazines.

When the perfect, permanent position became available at the Seattle Times, both me and my bank account rejoiced. So, that's how I'm now the proud, new, salaried web-writer for the Outdoors section.

The job has many perks. I get to write about what I love doing, and I can retain my somewhat-vagabond lifestyle by working from my home office in the second bedroom of my apartment or out on the road. I'm still expected to be in the office at least once a week for meetings, but this job gives me flexible working options. I think I'm going to love it.

I pull into the parking lot opposite my new employer's building. I wish it was quiet, but my truck gives a loud splutter-cough-BANG announcing my arrival. I swap my Chucks for a pair of black heels, open the door to the old Chevy beast with a creak, and shut it with another bang. Hitching my bag over my shoulder, I hurry through the mist and across the street in my heels, being mindful of the flat, yet highly unpredictable, pavement.

The security guard at the entrance checks my bag, and I'm issued a visitor's pass for today while my permanent one is made. I squeeze into the crowded elevator and meekly ask someone to press the button for the seventh floor.

The receptionist—who barely managed to draw her eyes from her open Facebook page—directs me to take a seat, where I wait for my new boss. I have read some of Tanya Denali's work online, and I am very impressed.

"Bella Swan?" I hear my name, punctuated by the click-clack of heels on the polished floor. Looking up, I see a tall, strawberry-blonde woman walking toward me, her smile wide and hand outstretched in greeting. I rise to my feet and offer my best first-day smile in return. "I'm Tanya. We're so happy to have you here at The Seattle Times."

"It's great to meet you, Tanya," I reply. Even in my heels, I have to look up to meet her ocean-blue eyes. "I'm really excited to be here."

Tanya gestures for me to follow her through the double doors, asking me about my trip into work and how long it took me to get here. We walk into a large, loud open office space separated into partitions containing four desks each. Closed-off offices flank the open area, which I assume are for the senior writers and editors. Tanya click-clacks into one of these offices and directs me to sit in a red leather chair opposite the large, mahogany desk in the center of the room.

"We've seen some of your work online," Tanya starts, looking at her computer. I shift in my seat. "You're already well established as a travel writer, and the references you provided in your resume are quite impressive. You're quite comfortable in that medium, aren't you." It was more like a comment than a question.

I clear my throat. "I did quite a bit of writing for the college p pa paper when I was at U of A, but found I was better suited to online. I found I could work well on the fly when I was out and about." During my time freelancing, I regularly took notes and captured sound-bites as the inspiration struck me on my digital recorder. "One of my favorite things to write about is the people I meet during my outdoor pursuits, and the stories they tell."

Tanya nods at me with a smile. "I'm the same," she says. "You can capture your view of the experience, but I find the stories from people really make the experience so much richer for the reader." I nod in agreement. I'm beginning to feel much more comfortable. Tanya and I seem to be on the same page in regard to our journalism ethos.

We talk a little more about our loves for travel and the outdoors. While my passion lies on the rock and in the mountains, Tanya is more of a water enthusiast. She tells me of her most recent experiences, surf kayaking and kite-surfing off the Californian coast. She shares a few grumbles about the cold weather of the Northwest. Taking her in, I can see how that might bother her—she's got the classic, sun-kissed surfer-girl look down to a tee.

"Now, as we discussed over the phone, we expect you in the office for weekly meetings, and on other odd occasions. Other than that, you're free to work from home or your mobile office," she says with a wink. We both know that in our field, 'mobile' means wherever you can find a semi-flat surface and Wi-Fi. "On your office days, you're welcome to set up at one of our hot-desks. We'll get to those in a minute." Tanya stands and heads for the door, motioning me to follow. "But first, let me introduce you to the team."

I follow Tanya toward a cubicle. "I'm so glad to have a little more estrogen on the team," she says over her shoulder, as she click-clacks her way to the cubicles. "I mean, the guys are great, but it'll be nice to even things out a bit, y'know?"

From my interview and our chat this morning, I decide that I quite like Tanya. She's personable, warm, and very easy to talk to. Her laid-back, California-like attitude is rather like what I'm used to finding in people that spend much of their lives outdoors. She does appear to like the finer things, though—her perfect manicure is evidence of that.

Throughout the morning, I'm introduced to my team. I attend my first meeting with the Travel and Outdoors group. They are, as Tanya pointed out earlier, all male, with the exception of Tanya and me.

I meet Eric and Alec, who look after the Seattle and Washington guides. They're both Seattle locals, born and bred.

I'm then introduced to James, who will also be working on the Outdoors section with me. James tells me that he loves hiking and hunting, all the while running his eyes from my head to my toes, with a pause at the level of my cleavage. It gives me the creeps. I wonder what kind of 'hunting' he's talking about.

Tanya calls in Marcus and Eleazar via Skype, from British Columbia and Portland respectively. They are quiet and offer little to the mostly Seattle-centric conversation. Later, Tanya tells me, she'll introduce me to our European correspondent, Liam, who works from his Irish base.

All in all, it seems like a great team. I'm told our work is supplemented by some freelancers that write for the paper and blogs. The thing that blows me away the most is that one writer, Waylon, is dedicated solely to writing about fishing. I'm sure Charlie is familiar with his work.

After lunch, Tanya gives me time to settle in and do some online research. I've kicked my shoes off where I'm seated at one of the hot-desks near the Lifestyle writers. I open my laptop and blow across the top of my Venti Cinnamon Dolce Latte, and before I can start, I'm interrupted by a head peeking over the partition. Well, the top of a spiky black head, at least.

"Hi there!" A cheerful, musical voice interrupts me. "It's Isabella, right?"

I nod in the direction of the spikes. "Yes," I reply hesitantly. "But Bella is fine." I still have no idea to whom I'm speaking. The spikes move to the edge of the cubicle and I see they're attached to a small woman with a large smile on her face.

"I'm Alice," she tells me. "I write freelance for the Fashion section. I'm sorry I missed your meet and greet earlier—I've been out researching for the Fall Fashion Festival. You're in Tanya's team, right? That's really great. The guy who was here before you was only interested in writing about hunting and catching your own food, Bear Grylls style. He didn't say much when he was in the office. Oh, wait, _you_ don't like catching your own food, do you? 'Cause then I may have just offended you. If I did, I'm really sorry. Anyway, it's great to meet you!"

I blink. I'm sure I look stunned. I know I feel stunned. This chick is a total whirlwind. Looking at her, it's logical that she writes fashion. Her whole look is so well put together—from her pixie-cut hair, to her short black shift dress with purple accents, little black blazer and sky-high plum shoes. Her look is business-corporate, and very, very stylish.

"Um, thanks, " I begin with a smile. Word vomit or no, something makes me want to talk to this girl. She's definitely honest. "And no need to worry about the whole hunting thing—it's not me. I prefer my food pre-caught."

Alice theatrically wipes her brow. "Thank God!" she says. "Are you originally from Seattle?"

"Born in Forks, about four hours away." I take a sip from my latte before continuing. "I've been living in Tucson for the last few years though. I studied at University of Arizona. I just moved back to Washington a month ago."

"Cool," Alice comments. "Well, it's fabulous to meet you. I have to run, but we'll do lunch when I'm back in the office next week? I just know we're going to be great friends."

"Sounds great, Alice. Thanks." I smile back at her. I could definitely do with a friend or two in Seattle. While I still know some of the guys back in Forks, most of my social activities of late revolved around my Arizona roommate, Angela, and my times out on my own.

She grabs her bag from her desk with one hand and gives me a wave with the other before heading toward the reception area. I watch the small, intriguing woman walk away from me. Yes, I definitely could do with some friends in my new city.

-~[YD]~-

My first day has been good, but I really need to clear my head. My brain is fried—filled with the new people, information, and thoughts of my new job. I'm still getting my head around the structure of the web page, and trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to fit into the shoes of Mr Hunt-Kill-Eat.

I park my truck a few doors down from a large, three-story warehouse. From the street, it's pretty unassuming. In fact, if it wasn't for the small sign by the door, you would be forgiven for thinking it was a regular warehouse. As I push through the doors to what I can see becoming my second Seattle home, I sigh. I'm in heaven.

The warehouse is pretty much open from the floor to the ceiling, three stories up. The walls are dotted with various multi-colored, molded plastic shapes. Ropes hang from the ceiling at intervals, and are bolted to the floor. Small clusters of people are working the ropes at floor level, or are suspended at varying heights along the walls. Rubber mats lie on the floor along the length of the walls.

Directly to my left is a long counter. Behind the counter, I can see a small room with shelves stacked high and full of shoes and chalk bags. There is a glass-front refrigerator stocked with water and Gatorade, the colors of the liquid reflective of the hand-holds on the walls. Shelves directly behind the counter are filled with snacks and protein bars. Looking to my right, below the mezzanine floor, is a closed off space with a door, above which rests a sign advertising 'RMC Sports Massage.'

I found this place on an online climbing forum. It appears the owner wanted to distinguish himself from the big, flashy climbing gyms usually found in busier parts of town. This is the fourth night in the past week I've been in—it's a refreshing change from the Lycra-filled institutions I've visited with former acquaintances in the past. It's grungy, smells like chalk and sweat, and right now, it's exactly what I need.

"Hi again." I'm greeted by an olive-skinned guy with dreads. "Climbing or bouldering* this evening?"

I hand over my money. "Bouldering. Thanks." Given I'm here without a partner, and not really into solo-climbing, I'm keeping it close to ground level.

Dreads guy opens the gate for me and I head for the locker rooms to change out of my work clothes. Stripping down, I'm far more comfortable in my three-quarter leggings, sports bra, and red fitted tank top. I cover up with a zip-up hoodie to warm up in. I stuff my bag into a locker, taking the key, and dangle my red chalk bag and climbing shoes from my fingers. The shoes are tight enough, without having to try wearing them for longer than I need to.

The bouldering cave is on the mezzanine level, and takes up a third of the area available. I'm glad that, being early on a Monday evening, it's quiet. I appear to have the cave all to myself. After I flop on the thick mats that cover the cave and start to work through my stretches, I let my mind wander.

I used to hit the climbing gym near my dorm room in Arizona with my roommate Angela, her boyfriend, Ben, and my then-boyfriend, Tyler. It didn't take long for the four of us to make more friends there. Soon, we had a great little group that would catch up twice a week.

Sitting on the mat and stretching out my hamstrings, I make a mental note to check out the notice board on my way out. Unless I want my future climbing endeavors to be limited to bouldering, I need to see if there's anyone looking for a climbing partner.

Squishing my feet into my red Five Tens that are really a size too small to truly be comfy for extended periods of time, I stand up and shake out my arms. First things first—warm up.

I breathe out, place my chalk-covered hands on two handholds in front of me, and I'm home. I'm not going to tackle any planned routes on my warm up. I'm just focusing on getting my arms, fingers, and legs warmed up. I move easily around the cave from left to right.

I reach, grasp, pull, shift, and push my way all the way around the cave. I spider along the roof at the back of the cave and loop my way back to the door, before scaling my way back the other way and to my starting holds. Hopping down on my feet, I stretch out my forearms, wriggle my fingers, and eyeball the intermediate-grade blue pieces of plastic that have been the bane of my existence for the last three nights.

When I've attempted this route before, it's usually been after running through several easier routes beforehand. Tonight, though, I'm determined to nail it. I'm tackling it fresh, and quite frankly, the bitch is going down.

Gripping the pebble-sized shape at shoulder-height with my right hand and the larger, knot-like hold at waist height in my left, I set my feet in place on the corresponding blue holds on the wall. Eyeing the next hold, I reach to my right, using my right foot as an anchor. When I have my grip secured, I switch feet, and the wall and I begin our dance.

The holds are smaller on the easier, vertical surfaces of the cave, calling for finger dexterity and forearm strength. Along the ceiling, the anchor points are larger and jug-shaped. Both place all sorts of pressure on my forearms as I try to cling to the ceiling like a spider monkey.

An hour later, after many hits to the floor and two bottles of water, I find myself looking at the crux move. My forearms are pumped, my fingers are rubbed raw, my feet are pinched in my shoes, and my tank top clings to me, drenched in sweat.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, I close my eyes and send a silent prayer to the gods of chalk and plastic. I focus everything on the last reach, mentally rehearsing what my body has been practicing for nights. I'm desperate—regardless of the outcome, this is my last attempt for tonight.

I coil the muscles in my legs… and lunge. My fingers clasp around the piece of blue plastic and hold there. I swing my right leg across, securing it, before adjusting my balance and moving past the barrier that has bound me for the past few evenings.

A few easy moves later, and I tap out triumphantly on the last piece of blue plastic before hitting the mat below with a thwack.

I lie on the mat, breathing heavily and looking up at the ceiling of the cave. My head is clear, but my body is exhausted. My stomach grumbles, reminding me that I haven't eaten since lunch and I'm famished.

I look at my hands, taking in my war wounds. Despite my efforts tonight, I haven't opened any of the blisters of the last few nights, and I only have a few scratches to add to the collection. I free my feet of their confines and slide my flip-flops back on, wriggling my toes in freedom.

I bundle up my belongings, too hot to put my hoodie back on, and head out of the cave, passing the shorter routes set up along the mezzanine on my way back to the stairs. There are a few more people here than when I came in straight after work.

I hear a male voice shout and the tinkling laughter of a female, and look to see a group of four gathered at the base of a route next to the stairs back to the ground floor.

This wall is painted red, with the Coca-Cola logo splashed along its length. Two top ropes are set up. A tall, slightly lanky, blond guy stands on the floor at the bottom of one rope, hands poised on the wall. On the other rope, is a tall, lean, blonde-haired woman. On belay for the man is a huge guy with dark curly hair, and for the woman, a tiny, black-haired pixie who looks remarkably familiar.

The group, shrouded in intense conversation, appears to be making bets. Intrigued, but knowing better than to distract someone on belay, I decide to wait until they're done.

The big guy's voice booms. "OK you two, you ready?" The blonde heads nod. "On my count—ready, set, GO!"

The two blonde-headed climbers take off up the wall at speed, and to the encouragement of the big guy and pixie at the bottom of the wall.

The blonde guy is long-limbed, strong and aggressive. He scrambles up the wall, barely taking advantage of his full reach. The girl is a little more calculated, using her legs to propel her as high as she can with each reach, only using her hands for balance. What she lacks in raw pace, she makes up for in finesse.

The two hit the ceiling at pretty much the same time to cheers from the pair on the floor. The whole thing is pretty funny to watch, and I am unable to hold in a laugh, particularly, because two grown adults are bickering like children as they are lowered to the ground.

"Rose, admit it, I beat your ass," the guy is saying. The girl called Rose is not going down without a verbal fight.

"No chance, Jazz. It was me all the way!"

Jazz isn't buying it and seeks confirmation from the belays, who are shaking with laughter. He turns to them. "Emmett? Alice? Come on, give it to us straight."

That's why she looked familiar. Alice is shaking her head. "Sorry, baby, it was too close to call. Rematch, maybe?"

Rose is turning on the big guy, who I now recognize from the last few nights as Emmett, the owner of RockFace Climbing Gym. She arches a perfect eyebrow at him in question, but he's not taking sides either. "Sorry, Rosie. You know I'd love to say it was you, but it really was too close to call. I gotta be fair to my boy here."

Rose and Jazz have unclipped and are preparing the ropes for the next climbers. "Next time I'm taking you down, baby brother," Rose addresses the blond man.

"Baby brother?" Jazz cries. "Four freaking minutes, Rosalie. Are you ever going to let it go?"

I laugh harder. Alice turns and sees me standing near the stairs. "Bella! Hey!" she calls, dancing toward me.

"Hi, Alice," I say in greeting. "You didn't strike me as a climber."

Alice nods her dark head enthusiastically. "I am to a degree, but not as much as these guys." She gestures toward the three that are making their way over. "Particularly at this time of year, anyway. I'm much happier on belay. Don't want to mess up my nails," she waves her manicure at me with a wink. Placing her hands on her hips, she continues. "I didn't know you came here."

I smile. "I found this place when I was out walking last week. I live just a few blocks away." I gesture over my shoulder.

I look back to see the others have joined us. "Hey, Chalky!" Emmett addresses me. He's decided this name suits me because the blue-holded bitch in the cave that's been taunting me for the last three nights is called Chalked Up and Choked. This is pretty much how I've looked, and what I've done every time I've attempted it. "You look happy. Did you finally tick* that boulder?"

I nod enthusiastically, my grin adding volume to my words. "Yes! Finally! I thought it was going to kill me, but I finally nailed it." I return the high five offered with a chalky hand.

Alice directs me to the two I haven't yet met. "Bella, this handsome man is my boyfriend, Jasper." I shake the hand reaching toward me, returning the smile.

Alice continues. "And this is his sister, Rosalie. Rose is Emmett's wife. She owns the sports massage place downstairs." Rosalie offers me a small wave as she appears to size me up. I return her wave, somewhat awkwardly.

"Care to join us, Chalky? I can ask Laurent to hook you up with a harness if you don't have one with you," Emmett says.

I shake my head. "Thanks for the offer, Emmett, but I'm fried." The burn is building in my forearms, and my legs are starting to feel like jelly. I need a hot bath. "I'm going to head home. I'll catch you later in the week, though?"

He nods. "Definitely. This lot will likely be back in on Thursday. One of us can belay, if you'd like a real climb."

It's been a few weeks since I've had any form of elevation, so I nod my agreement before saying my goodbyes. In the change rooms, I throw on my hoodie, leaving it unzipped, and stuff my climbing gear into my bag. As I walk towards the doors and pull them open, I'm thinking about a big bowl of leftover pasta for dinner.

A whoosh of cold air hits me at the same time a solid wall of person does. Being the classy, coordinated kind of girl I am, I hit the ground with an expletive. My stuff scatters as I go sprawling.

"Can't you at least watch where you walk?" a smooth voice snaps at me, as icy as the night air.

I'm about to return the sentiment when I look up into the greenest pair of eyes I've ever seen. These eyes are not only green, but cold—and they are shooting invisible daggers directly at me.

The asshole in question is topped with brown hair which is tinged in red and maybe a touch of gold. It's a true testament to his eyes that I noticed them before the rest of his tall, toned body. When I do notice his body, there's no stopping my eyes running across his business shirt-covered, defined chest. Rock climbing guys' bodies … there's really nothing like them. This one is clearly a climber.

Broad, strong, muscled shoulders are hidden beneath a long-sleeved, button-down white shirt. His forearms—which are on full view, thanks to rolled-up sleeves—are lightly dusted with brown hair and ripple with roped muscles. They are further defined by veins that are more pronounced below the surface of his skin.

Then, there are his hands. They are large, but I can't see his palms, which would confirm or deny my suspicions about whether he climbs or not. His hands are balled into fists.

Shaking my head and taking in my surroundings, I notice that this perfect specimen of man has planted me firmly on my ass in front of a bunch of people. I'm humiliated, and when I'm humiliated, I get angry.

"It takes two to tango, asshole," I retort. I begin to sweepingly gather my strewn stuff. Aforementioned asshole is still standing there, glaring at me.

"And he doesn't even offer to help," I mutter under my breath. "Ever heard of fucking manners?"

Still grumbling, I continue stuffing my things into my bag. Zipping it up furiously, I rise to my full height. I still have to look up; my full height barely reaches his chin. I stare him straight in the eye, and scowl at him. The man looks back, his expression giving nothing away. Then, he smirks.

Of all the arrogant... Now, I'm fuming.

I continued to stare into his eyes, which now appear to show mild amusement. I try to even my breathing, my insides fluttering and heart flying. Despite my unbridled anger, there's something else going on in my body. I find myself looking at his lips, which are full. He has a day's growth on his chin, and I can't help but wonder what it feels like.

Something about him draws me in, yet at the same time screams: stay away.

I exhale, unsure of how long I have been holding my breath, and remind my feet to move. I make a show of stepping around the asshole-slash-god and walk steadily toward the door. He still hasn't moved.

As I whip the door open, I feel a prickle on the back of my neck. I chance a peek over my shoulder, where the asshole is standing at the counter. Again, he smirks.

Dammit, he caught me looking.

I narrow my eyes back at him, feeling the blush rising on my cheeks. Hoisting my bag higher still on my shoulder, I stalk through the door and head toward my car.

All the way home, I think of sharp, green eyes. I consider having a cold shower in place of my hot bath.

.

.

.

.

**A/N:** So, that's it! I don't yet have a posting schedule in mind—my life tends to be ruled by my two little ones. I'll post when I can. I've never written fanfiction before, and I'd really love to know what you think. Leave me something and let me know?

A few definitions:

Tick: A climbing term used to indicate successfully completing a climb, without the aid of guideropes or the ground.

Bouldering: Climbing that is done low to the ground and without ropes. You tend to move horizontally (traverse), rather than vertically. Without a mat, though, it still hurts when you fall.


	2. Chapter 2: Gumby

**A/N:** Wow! I'm so happy with the response from Chapter 1. Thank you so much to those who read, reviewed and put me and this little story on alert. It definitely makes me feel better about biting the bullet and finally posting. I have so many warm fuzzies, I'm about to turn into a koala. For those that asked about an EPOV—I haven't quite decided. Maybe a little further down the track?

**Big thanks** to my betas for this chapter: Starpower31 and RaindropSoup. To my lovely, lovely pre-readers: TwiSNFan and Louisemc86—again, you're amazing. Thanks, too, to GossipLips for my lovely banner. It's on my profile.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I used to own a pair of cherry red Five Tens.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Gumby:** A rock climbing slang word for a novice.

**BPOV**

I wake up before the alarm buzzed to sunshine streaming in through my uncovered windows. Blinking into the bright light, I stretch my sore arms high over my head, lengthening each of my fingers, and arch my back. With a yawn, I pull myself up and, hanging my legs over the edge of the bed, look first over one shoulder, then the other. My neck feels like ropes are tying my ears to my shoulders.

As always, the pain is worse on the second day.

First things first. I need to get these muscles moving again.

After pulling on some shorts, a tank, sports bra, and grabbing my iPod and headphones, I head out the door. If I were to sit at my desk now and try to do some writing, I'm sure my muscles would be seriously seized by lunchtime.

I really want to be loosened up by tomorrow night—I'm looking forward to a climb with my new friends.

I start with a slow jog once I'm out of my apartment building, letting the rhythm of my feet work with the music in my ears.

~-[YD]-~

Back in my apartment, I head straight for the bathroom where I let the hot water relax the tension in my muscles.

After drying off and dressing in jeans and a comfy, well-worn tee, I make my way to my home office and flick on the laptop before heading toward the kitchen. After hunting a banana and gathering toast, I take my bounty back to my office and sit down at my desk, letting my fingers run across the keys. I want to continue with the good start I got on my work yesterday.

I'd gotten in a solid six hours of writing. Well, writing, editing, sending to Tanya for a look over, more editing by me, more writing, a bit of research, three coffees, lunch, and a quick run.

Quite a productive day, if I do say so myself.

This morning, I'm feeling particularly inspired. The run has cleared my head, my muscles are feeling significantly looser, and my creative mojo runs from my fingers into my keyboard.

A few hours later, my stomach grumbles, reminding me that I'm going to need fuel to get through the afternoon. Opening the refrigerator and seeing nothing that appeals to me, I grab my purse and slip on my Chucks. As an afterthought, I bundle up my laptop and notebook—I figure I might as well make an afternoon of it.

Enjoying the sunshine, I walk toward the café I discovered a few weeks ago.

Once there, I order a turkey salad sandwich and a coffee, spread out my laptop and notes on a table, and prepare to work.

Two hours and a couple of coffees later, I've hit a wall. I switch tasks to people-watching.

Different types of people walk in and out of the café. A pair of moms with prams, enjoying the sunshine and a coffee while their babies sleep. Businesspeople dressed in corporate attire, bustling in with efficiency and leaving with coffee and muffins. What looks like a personal trainer, stops in for bottled water and determinedly steers his client away from the cake counter. A group of women, wearing surgical scrubs, talk animatedly and laugh in their small group. I smile to myself.

It's the people that make the story.

Enjoying the voyeuristic nature of my activities, I add a spoonful of sugar to my coffee and stir it thoughtfully. Letting my mind wander in earnest now, I imagine the stories attached to these people, far beyond what they wear or what they do for a living. Who waits for them at home? Where are they going next? What do they have planned for Thanksgiving? What sound in the world do they love, above any other?

The ding of the bell at the entrance to the coffee shop catches my attention, and I instinctively look toward the door as a tall man wearing business pants and shirt—no jacket—walks in and up to the counter. His back is to me as he orders, rubbing his hand through the hair at the back of his head, before taking three steps to the right to await his order. I see him freeze, his body stiffens, and his head turns slightly. It's as if someone has called his name. The man then slowly turns to face me, and I gasp quietly.

It's the bulldozer from the gym.

Again, he's caught me looking. He momentarily looks surprised, right before a wide, knowing smirk spreads across his beautiful face.

I blush and look back down, furiously stirring my coffee, the spoon clinking noisily on the sides of cup. I even cower behind my laptop screen in a futile attempt to hide.

S_tealth, Bella. Truly—your ninja skills are second to none._

I'm not sure why I'm embarrassed—he's the one that bowled me over and didn't even have the decency to apologize.

I look back up again at the sound of the bell to see him, coffee in hand, walk back out through the door and into the street.

Maybe he didn't see me after all.

-~[YD]~-

For the remainder of the week, I continue my pattern of working from home or the office in the mornings and spending the afternoons in coffee shops I find between my home and work. I haven't gone back to the coffee shop where I ran into the Bulldozer.

I've been busy doing the groundwork for a series of columns about various camping and outdoor pursuit opportunities in the extended Seattle area. While I'm at it, I'm using the process as a chance to revisit my old stomping ground—the Olympic National Park. If I can get my planning done quickly enough, I might be able to squeeze in a few short trips before the weather turns too frigid.

While planning trips and researching articles, I've been having a great time settling in and exploring the city. I'm hoping to find some of the city's more hidden treasures. My colleagues in the office have been generous with suggestions of places they like to visit with their friends and families. I'm eager to check them out myself.

As promised to Emmett and Alice, I get in a short session at RockFace on Thursday evening after work. Alice, true to her word, is great on belay. I traded off, taking turns with Rose, who was still fairly cold toward me. The good thing about climbing is that you can't go the entire time without talking—communication is the key. By the end of the evening, I think we made some progress. I make it an early one, though, and head home for dinner by 7 PM. I want to wrap up my research so I have my weekend free.

Rather fortunately, I didn't bump into the Bulldozer at the gym. "Bump into" being the key phrase. I still can't believe he didn't apologize after Monday's effort, especially so, as I've seen him since at the coffee shop.

Well, shame on him, and shame on his mother for not teaching him manners, I say.

Despite my annoyance, I haven't been able to stop myself from wondering what he'd been at the gym for. I mean, my first assumption was that he'd been there to climb, but he didn't appear to be carrying climbing gear, nor was he dressed appropriately. I suppose he could have been there to go to Rose's Sports Massage clinic, as it's in the same building. Although Rose was climbing with us, it's possible that he was getting a treatment from one of Rose's colleagues. I quickly push the thoughts out of my head. Who cares why he was there? Not me. Nope. Not at all.

In my book, poor manners are like cheating—total dealbreaker.

I decide on a quiet Friday night in. Partially due to the fact that I've only met a handful of people, and partially due to the fact that I'm beat.

After dinner, I'm curled up on my armchair in front of the TV, barefoot with my laptop. when my phone starts buzzing across the coffee table. I don't recognize the number, so I answer professionally in case it's work-related…but, on a Friday night?

"Hello, Bella Swan."

"Bella? Hi!" a voice chirps, "It's Alice."

I smile into the phone. "Alice, hi! I thought you were working tonight."

"I kinda am," she says with a huff. "I've been so busy with the Fall Fashion Festival, but tonight I've managed to change it up a little." Alice pauses briefly for breath. "I'm sorry you couldn't stay longer last night, Bella."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that too," I reply as I close my laptop and place it on the coffee table. "I've been working pretty hard and crashing early most evenings. I had a great time, though." I stretch out further, getting comfortable on the couch. "I knew I had to put in some time tonight to finish off some stuff so I can keep my weekend free."

"Well, about that..." Alice sounds excited. "Tonight, I'm kidnapping you." I can practically hear her bouncing. "I'm taking you out. Consider it a 'Welcome to Seattle!' As well as me mixing business with pleasure."

I bite the inside of my cheek. "Out" for me usually consists of hitting up the local sweaty climbing gym, tearing the skin from my hands, maybe scoring a few bruises, and heading home for a hot bath and a book. "I'm not so sure, Alice. I mean I've got nothing to wear for starters—" I'm cut off.

"Nonsense. This is why you have me!" she squeals. "Text me your address, hop in the shower, and leave your hair wet. I'll bring clothes and drinks."

"OK, Alice, but I have to warn you…"

"Fabulous. I'll be there in half an hour. Bye!"

I stare at the phone in disbelief. Even over the airwaves she's a hurricane. After texting my address and saving Alice's number in my phone, I head for the bathroom.

-~[YD]~-

A few hours, a significant amount of hair product, a little black dress, and a few mojitos later, Alice and I are headed to Cantante, a swanky bar downtown. We're let in without having to line up—it appears Alice is well known in Seattle's social scene. After Alice buys us drinks at the bar—a fruity thing that she insisted I have—we make our way through the crowd toward the blonde head peeking over the top of a booth at the back of the room.

"Hi, Rose!" Alice squeals. I nod in greeting while Rose does the same. The awkward moment is interrupted by a booming voice behind me, easily heard above the din of the bar.

"Chalky!" I turn toward the voice with a smile. Emmett wanders up with Jasper close behind him. "You bailed on me on Thursday night! You missed the speed-climbing extravaganza. I smashed it!" Emmett flexes his bicep, kissing the top of it.

I laugh as the two men take a seat, Emmett squeezing his large frame in beside Rosalie, and Jasper slipping quietly into a seat by Alice after kissing her the top of her head.

"If by 'smashing it,' you mean slipping and shredding your knees, then yeah, Emmett. You totally did," Rosalie adds, rolling her eyes. She turns to face me, blue eyes piercing. "You'll have to excuse my husband, Bella. He is prone to embellishment."

I nod at Rosalie with a shy smile before turning to her husband. "I'm sorry, Emmett. I've had so much going on this week." I perch myself on the bench on the edge of the booth and take a sip from my drink.

We all fall into easy chatter about what has been going on for us during the week. While I've been planning for my trip to the Olympic National Park and surrounds, Alice has, as I suspected, been interviewing up-and-coming local designers. It's from this part of the conversation that I find out that Alice is somewhat of a designer herself.

"It's nothing much at the moment. I've just got a few pieces in a couple of boutiques around town," she says flippantly, with a little wave of her hand.

"Nothing much? You're a bit modest there, Al," Rose interrupts before turning to me. "Alice was asked to show at this year's Fall Festival. The dress you're wearing was part of that collection."

I look down at the dress Alice brought me to wear tonight. The dress in question is simple, black, and makes me feel elegant. It reaches a few inches above the knee, clings flatteringly to my body, and has two straps that start at the back on opposite sides, both wrapping over my left shoulder, joining in a knot below my left collarbone.

Alice has wrapped my long hair into a twist that sits softly on my nape, the neckline of my dress calling for no further decoration. I've teamed Alice's dress with simple silver teardrop earrings that were a graduation present from my grandmother. I was worried when Alice dressed me tonight that I'd be overdone. I needn't have worried, because the bar seems to be a little more upscale than the cozy, climber-filled beer-dens that I'm used to.

Alice shrugs. "That's not why I do it. I just love to make beautiful things. I'm not sure I've got the confidence to put myself out to criticism by the likes of, well, moi!" She grins impishly, pointing a perfectly manicured thumb to her chest. "Maybe next year."

The conversation shifts to Jasper's experiences as a youth social worker. I like Jasper. He's quiet, and he doesn't seem to speak without thinking. As I listen to him, I notice he has firm beliefs about the rights of youth and the challenges they face. He believes that older generations accuse today's youth of laziness but don't understand that many young people find getting the motivation hard in an economy that provides little in the way of employment prospects.

Giving it some thought, I suppose I have been lucky that I've not been out of work—jobs seem to fall into my lap, even during my freelance days. I can definitely see how what he is saying has merit.

The entire time Jasper is speaking, Alice looks at him as though he hung the moon. It's clear that these two complement each other well—Alice's dynamic energy and Jasper's quiet contemplation. He is the yin to her yang.

Throughout the course of the evening, I also learn more about the history of Emmett's climbing gym. He'd gotten sick of the shiny, clean, Lycra-filled indoor climbing centers, and wanted one where the focus was on climbing rather than posing. I agreed with him heartily—Tyler had been into that pretentious, pumped-up scene back in Arizona. It definitely wasn't for me.

It's funny to watch Rosalie and Emmett interact. Jasper and Alice move together—around each other, like water over rock. In Rose and Emmett's case, it's almost as though they are constantly on a collision course. They bicker relentlessly; his hearty guffaws are usually met with Rosalie's rolling eyes. Despite this, they are a good match. They always seemed to find a reason to touch each other with either a slap upside the head—Rosalie to Emmett—or, a noisy kiss on the cheek—Emmett to Rosalie.

I'd never had that kind of relationship with Tyler—or one like Alice and Jasper's for that matter. Sure, we had fun, but he preferred big, crowded clubs where women fawned over him and he and his buddies could belt back beers. I'm happier with smaller, cozier places, small groups, and a few drinks and conversation. I suppose he needed the constant, fawning attention that bitch-faced whores were quite happy to give.

So...I'm still a little bitter.

Being around the two happy couples is great fun, but I'm beginning to feel a little like a fifth wheel. I announce that I'm heading to the bar—it's my round—and Alice offers to help me. I tell her I'll stop by the bathroom first and swing past to get her on my way to the bar.

After a necessary moment, I wash my hands and touch up my lip gloss. As I smooth out my dress and straighten the shoulder straps using the reflection of the wall-length mirror of the luxuriantly-appointed bathroom, a long-legged, red-haired woman sweeps up to the sink next to me.

She unceremoniously dumps her handbag and cigarettes on the bench. I watch surreptitiously as she rummages through her bag before emerging with an expensive-looking tube of lipstick and a diamante-encrusted cigarette lighter. She primps and preens with well-practiced ease, adjusting her boobs, fluffing her hair, and smearing bright red lipstick across her full lips. She notices me looking, pausing mid-smear to glare back at me in the mirror. She's attractive, although in a rather obvious way. While Rosalie is a natural bombshell, this woman appears to have paid for her...assets.

"Yes?" she asks in a high pitched voice. "Am I wearing something of yours?"

I blink in shock. Shoving my lip gloss back into my purse, I look away from her steely gaze. I pick up my purse and flee from the bathroom as fast as my heels will take me, feeling like a total novice or a little girl playing dress-up.

I head straight for the bar, my head swimming with thoughts of tall, well-put-together women, completely forgetting that I was supposed to collect Alice on the way. The redhead has me completely rattled.

Is everyone in this town so rude?

I squeeze into place at the bar, and the bartender walks straight up to me.

"Miss?" he asks, drying a glass.

I give him my order, and he lays out a shot of Patron, three Stellas, two Cosmos, a lime wedge and a salt shaker. I hand over my money, lick the back of my left hand and sprinkle a little salt before slamming the shot. I let the alcohol warm my veins and numb my head. It's not the first time I've been cut down to size.

Something about the look that the redhead in the bathroom gave me reminds me of a scorching night back in Arizona.

_"You're just like one of the boys, Izzy," Tyler tells me, taking the coiled rope from me. I hate that he calls me Izzy, but despite me asking him not to for the last two years, he hasn't stopped. "It's awesome that you can carry almost as much stuff as we can. Less trips between the crag and the campsite."_

_I look back at my boyfriend with an arched eyebrow. "Thanks, Ty. I think." Shaking my head, I collect two ropes for myself and loop them over my shoulders. After picking up my rack of carabiners, I follow him back down the dusty, well-worn path to the campsite._

_Tyler bumps fists with his buddy, Fred, and starts to tell him about how he "totally nailed that crux" and how "mega pumped" he is. I tune him out—I've heard enough of Tyler's success stories, real and exaggerated. Seeing my best friend Angela and her boyfriend Ben building the campfire, I wander over, grabbing a bottle of water on the way. The campfire is starting to crackle—soft, grey smoke is starting to fill the campsite. Fred waves over our shoulder toward the car-park. "Diego! Glad you could make it, man!"_

_I look toward where Fred is waving. Walking toward us, carrying a pack and what looks like a tent, is Diego. With him, carrying nothing, is a tall, slim girl. She looks new to climbing—and camping for that matter. Clean clothes, tennis shoes, and designer sunglasses perched daintily atop her shiny dark head. Diego shakes hands with Fred. "Sorry we're late, dude," he tells his friend. "I had to wait for my sister. Guys, this is Lauren."_

_Brilliant. A fucking gumby._

I snort to myself and order another shot from the bartender.

As the bartender takes my empty glass in front of me, a man's right hand rests on the bar, just next to my own. The hand is large and strong, with smooth skin, long fingers, and neat, short fingernails. The hand is joined to a well-defined forearm, veins wrapping around like bracelets and tendons visible under the skin.

I can feel his body heat—he's standing so close. The arm looks familiar, but given the close proximity of the stranger, I don't think I could move to see the owner's face, even if I had wanted to.

His thumb barely brushes my pinky finger, and his breath fans across my bare right shoulder. Goosebumps build from between my shoulder blades, rise up my spine, and branch outward across my neck and then my scalp. I inhale deeply as I consciously remind myself to breathe, and my senses are assaulted by the fresh smell of spice, scotch, and man.

He speaks.

"Two, Raoul." His voice is low and smooth. I daren't turn around. The subtle touch and very closeness of this man makes me feel alive.

Raoul nods in acknowledgement, pouring the shots and placing two lime wedges in front of me. I'm still locked in place.

Long, slender fingers gently take hold of my right wrist, raising it to the height of my shoulder. From the corner of my vision, blurred by the closeness, I see wet, rosy lips above a strong jaw, softly dusted with just the right amount of scruff. The lips gently kiss the inside of my right wrist, tongue gently caressing the blue-tinted veins there for the briefest of moments before salt is sprinkled. I close my eyes.

My heart flutters. I whimper.

"Your turn," he says.

With my own tongue, I retrace the line on my left wrist from my previous shot. He sprinkles salt gently.

Without a word, both of us using my body as a platter, we simultaneously lick the salt, take the shots, and bite into the bitter lime.

I relish the burn of the shot, my heart pounding. I still haven't seen his face clearly, but this moment has given me more of a jolt than I think I had in the entire three years I was with Tyler.

Remembering my manners, I turn to say thank you and look up to see green, green, and green. In the dim light of the bar, above the green lime wedged between red lips are two deep emerald irises looking back at me. The corners of his brilliant eyes are crinkled with a telltale smirk.

I jump back as far as I can into the bar, spitting my lime wedge out into my hand in a rather unladylike fashion. "You!" I splutter. "_You_!"

Apparently I'm incapable of anything but single syllables around this man.

The Bulldozer smirks back at me. "Huh. I almost didn't recognize you, when you're not on your knees." He goes back to sucking on the lime wedge, smirking crookedly.

"_What_?!" I shriek. "You..._you_..."

"You know, if you're going to be panting at me, I'd prefer you used my real name," he says cockily. Still smirking.

Damn, rude, bulldozing, Smirky McSmirkerston.

That's it. Here's me, reaching the end of my tether.

"You..._asshole_!"

The Bulldozer places his lime wedge back on the counter, snickering. "No. Actually, it's Edward. And you are?"

I glare back at him, rising to my full height in heels. Which still isn't very high.

"Leaving."

I shove past him, trying but failing to ignore the spark that shoots from where our bodies briefly connect, and stalk back over to our table. I sit down on the bench in a huff, my eyes filling with unshed tears of rage. "Asshole!" I mutter under my breath.

My four table-mates look at me—four different faces, all displaying the same question: _what the fuck?_

"Bella? Are you ok?" Alice asks cautiously. "Do you need a hand carrying the drinks?"

I blink back at her. "Drinks?" I remember that I've left them all sitting back on the bar with Raoul and the Bulldozer. I drop my head to my hands. "_Fuck_!"

Emmett cocks his head to the side, looking at me. "Chalky?" he asks with concern.

I close my eyes, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. I'm sure I've just smeared mascara all over my entire face. That _may_ have been an exaggeration. What I am sure of is that my new friends think I am nuts.

_How long until they realize and move on?_

I exhale and slump in my seat. "I bought the drinks. I just left them at the bar," I say in a small voice. Truth be told, I can't face going back there. I just want to go home.

While the night started well, I've since been eyeballed by a nasty, big-boobed redhead bitch. I have also been unbelievably turned on by a total stranger—only to realize that the stranger is the same, ill-mannered Bulldozer who has previously humiliated me in front of a group of people. All this before shrieking like a banshee in monosyllables at that same total stranger, then giving an impersonation of a rabid raccoon in front of my new friends.

I want to die.

Jasper, probably sensing I'm on the verge of losing my shit completely, nods toward the bar. "Em?" he asks, and he and Emmett disappear, presumably to retrieve the abandoned drinks.

As soon as Jasper vacates his seat, Alice slides in next to me and grasps my arm. "Bella, are you really okay?"

I look at her with resignation. "I think I better go home, Al."

Alice nods but doesn't push. "I get it," she says kindly. "How about we catch up for brunch tomorrow? I've got to be downtown at two but can meet you at, say, eleven o'clock?"

I nod numbly. "Tell the guys bye for me, okay? And, I'm sorry."

Alice smiles sympathetically, gives me a hug, and tells me she'll text me in the morning.

I grab my bag and coat and head for the door. Before I reach it, I hear Emmett's thunderous voice from across the room. "Hey, look who I found!" Alice squeals in reply.

Not up for meeting any more people—or humiliating myself in front of them—I scurry out the door and hail a cab home.

Relishing in the sanctity of my apartment, I remove the costume I wore this evening and take off my mask of makeup.

With a sigh, I hang my designer dress carefully over a chair and tuck myself snugly under the covers in my coziest flannelette pajamas.

I replay the evening in my mind. I had been having fun, but the altercation in the bathroom was the beginning of the end. Maybe the rude redhead and the Bulldozer are in cahoots.

_They're probably having a great laugh about me right now._

Rolling over, I switch off my light and close my eyes. It takes some time to fall asleep, but when I do, I can't help it. This is the first night I dream of an emerald-eyed bulldozer called Edward.

.

.

.

* * *

**A/N: **

Awwww, Bella! We've all had those nights, haven't we? The "am I wearing something of yours?" line came from a girl I used to know. She wasn't very nice. How many of you think Edward is a bit of an ass? Yeah, fair enough. Me, too. Have a little faith? We're only two chapters in.

I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter. I'd also love to know where you found out about Yosemite Decimal. Let me know in a review.

Come and follow me on twitter: magtwi78.

**Some definitions**:

Crux - the crux move is the most difficult of a route. The nature of the crux move can influence the grade given to the climb. Sometimes it's at the end of the route, but not always.

**Some Recs:**

Follow the Sun by MissWinkles. This is a lil Aussieward fic. He's hot, and Bella is a crack-up. Her descriptions are so true that you feel like you're there.

Moment of Victory by RMacaroni. I love me a sportsward fic, and this is a good one. Who doesn't love a soccer player? Worldcupward!


	3. Chapter 3: Sketched Out

**A/N: **I'm so very, very grateful to you all for reading. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for your sweet reviews, retweets and adding me to alerts, fave lists, etc.

My PTB betas for this chapter were Angelz1114577 and mcc101180. My pre-readers are TwiSNfan and Louisemc86.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. As of this week, I now own a postgraduate qualification in Environment - yippee!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Sketched Out:** Climbing slang for feeling insecure

**BPOV**

_Ugh. Tequila bad._

I lift my head gingerly from my pillow, running my fingers across my dry lips.

_Water._

Reaching for the bottle on my nightstand, I take a swig before sitting up fully. For a minute, I'm confused. Then I look over to where last night's little black dress hangs across the back of a chair. And then I remember.

_Him._

An interlude that took less than five minutes set my entire body on fire. I was with Tyler for three years and not once—not one single time—did I feel the pull toward him that I did toward the green-eyed Bulldozer.

_Edward._

Why the hell did he even approach me? I mean, putting on a pretty dress does not make a bombshell make. Redhead in the bathroom reminded me of that fact all too quickly.

I shake my head gently—it's a little tender—and wobble toward the bathroom.

Shedding my sleep clothes, I turn the shower on as hot as my skin can stand. Letting the heated water steam the mirrors and soak my skin, I give myself a stern talking-to.

One: I am a capable, intelligent woman. I do not need the reassurance—or attention—of a man to be sure of my own self-worth. A few drinks, some random whore flashing her tits in my face, and an indiscriminate player in a bar are not going to put a chink in that armor.

Two: So what if I'm one of the boys? I can carry my own stuff, climb 5.10s, and drink beer. I'm comfortable in jeans and Chucks. I can fix shit when it breaks. The one serious boyfriend I had left me for a "girly girl." So fucking what! That's not me.

Three: I'm finding my place in a new city. I'm making new friends. I'm doing it on my own. Fear does not stop me from climbing to great heights. If I've got faith in my gear, my routes are bombproof. I just need to have the same faith in myself as I do out on the rock.

I rub conditioner through my hair, using my fingers to draw it out to the ends. After washing my face and scrubbing the grime of last night's escapades from my body, I step onto the soft bathmat. A fluffy towel wrapped around my body gives me the final boost of comfort I need this morning. I wipe the condensation from the mirror and look my reflection straight in the eyes.

"Get your shit together, Swan."

Bathroom-mirror reflection stands a little taller and squares her shoulders. She gives me a firm nod.

I hear my phone chime three times from my bedroom, signifying a new text. Once I have it in my hand, I unlock my screen and proceed to read my message.

**Good morning, Miss Bella! Meet you at CC, 11AM. Have sent you address. C U soon! - A x**

I shoot off a quick reply confirming that I've received her message and that I'll meet her there. After rifling through my closet, I find some comfy, morning-after-a-big-night-out wear. My uniform for today is worn boyfriend-except-they're-not-because-I'm-happily-single jeans and a Forks Police t-shirt that I swiped from my dad last time I was home. Wandering out to my kitchen, I grab a bottle of apple juice from the fridge.

I chuckle to myself. Knowing Alice, she'll be all put-together in sky-high shoes. I've had quite enough of heels for now.

Snatching the keys to my truck and my phone from the hall table, I decide to leave early. I've still got some time before I need to meet Alice, so I think I'll have a stroll on my way to the café. The fresh air and movement will do me good.

Letting music fill my truck and filter through the open windows, I enjoy the crisp breeze that teases my hair on the drive to meet Alice. I find a park a few blocks from the venue, and closing the door with my Chevy's signature BANG, I mosey my way along the sidewalk.

When I moved to Seattle, I deliberately looked for somewhere I could afford to live on my own. I knew when I left Arizona that I needed the solo time. I had let my life in Arizona become too wrapped up in other people. Ange and I shared a room in the dorm at U of A, and it seemed natural for us to find a place together when we finished school.

She didn't want to live with Ben at the time, wanting to wait until they were married. I didn't want to move in with Tyler either. At least I'd had the foresight at the time to recognize that would have been a bad idea.

Once things between Tyler and I had turned sour, I had become increasingly aware of how couple-ish everyone around me was. To avoid this, I threw myself into traveling, taking any freelance job I could get across the Southwest. I relished the chance to meet new people and to share their stories with my readers. I visited some amazing places and, for the first time, began to truly appreciate time on my own.

I've sat facing the vast Pacific, soaking up the sun in California. I've drawn tall tales from ice climbers in Colorado—now they were some crazy dudes. They weren't as crazy as the free soloists that haunted Yosemite, though. Don't get me wrong: I love a rush as much as the next guy—but I'm not suicidal.

I've climbed the sandstone at Zion, walked in the Arizona backcountry, and talked to excited families in the Grand Canyon. I've hiked for days in New Mexico and slept under the stars.

I loved every minute of it.

It was while I was sitting, stoking the coals of a campfire in front of my little single tent somewhere in Utah, that I decided I'd had enough of wandering. It was time to put down some roots. That was when I started hunting for a permanent position in earnest. While I didn't need co-dependency, I needed my people, security, and home.

I also learned that I could be confident in my work, what I do, and who I am.

I confirmed it in my job at _The Seattle Times_. I found it when I settled into my little apartment. I felt it when I climbed with my new friends—the ones I made all on my own.

This is why I'm baffled. Why, each time I've bumped into the Bulldozer—_Edward_—do I completely lose my shit?

_What _is _it with that guy?_

This is the thought running through my head as I open the door to the cafe. Taking a quick scan, I spot Alice waving at me from a table by a window and weave my way over to join her. Ordering a coffee from the server, I take a seat, placing my sunglasses in front of me.

Alice grabs my hands. "Before anything else, are you okay?" She looks intently at me, her aquamarine eyes dancing.

I nod. "I'm fine, Alice. I just had a little mini meltdown." She looks at me, still concerned. I give her a small smile. "I guess it's been a big week—first week of work and all. I think it all just caught up with me. I'm okay now, though."

"I'm so glad," she says, taking a sip of water. Putting her glass down, she continues. "I was really worried. I mean, I thought you were having a good time. I know it must be a bit daunting, considering our group is...the way it is."

I shrug. "I suppose that had a little to do with it. A very little," I interject, seeing her eyes widen slightly. "To be honest, it's been quite a while since I've had really good friends."

Alice squeezes my hands. We're interrupted by the server, who appears to take our order. I order a light meal—greasy isn't going to do it for me this morning—and a coffee and a Coke. Caffeine is going to be my savior this morning.

"So, what was it that got you so spooked last night?" Alice asks me, once the server has taken our menus away.

Taking a deep breath, I tell her about the bathroom episode with the redhead. Alice is suitably disgusted, so I tell her about the Bulldozer at the bar, and his penchant for Bella-infused tequila.

Alice laughs. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm not laughing at you, I promise." She shakes her head and takes a sip of her water. "You must think Seattleites are total assholes!"

I have to laugh. "It's funny you say that, Alice. That's the exact word I've used the two out of the three times I've run into the Bulldozer." Alice laughs harder. Her giggling is infectious. "I mean, who does that?!"

Alice lets out a little snort, which sets us both off further. "Bulldozer?"

We calm down when the server places our plates in front of us. I spear a mushroom viciously.

"Oh, my God. Just wait 'til you hear this. I've seen him three times now." Between mouthfuls, I tell Alice about what happened at the gym on Monday night and my mortification about being knocked over in the busy gym lobby.

"That must have been why my cousin was laughing when we saw him on Monday night, after you left," Alice says, her face dawning with recognition. "He mentioned a brunette that went sprawling in the entrance of RockFace. He thought it was funny as fuck. Didn't mention any bulldozers though, I have to say."

I feel my cheeks redden. "That's why I was so embarrassed! I mean, any time I see anyone from the gym, I'm going to be, like, 'The Girl Who Lost Her Shit.'" I make air-quotes, widening my eyes and bobbling my head around maniacally.

Alice grins at me. "I should totally set you up with him."

"Who, the Bulldozer?"

"Noooo." She snickers. "My cousin."

I shake my head emphatically. "No way," I tell her firmly. "No dates, no set-ups. I am perfectly happy on my own." A new relationship is not what I need right now.

Alice grins. "Okay, no setting up. But, you'll probably meet him at some stage. He climbs with us sometimes, although it's usually on a weekend if we go. He's a specialist, so he works late most nights during the week. He was at the bar last night, too. Emmett found him after you left."

"Good thing it was after I left," I say. "I don't think I would have been up to meeting new people. I was a mess."

"I kind of get the feeling that there might be more to the story," Alice says gently. She leans forward slightly. "I know we've only known each other a week or so, but I really think we're going to be good friends. You're welcome to share as much, or as little, with me as you like."

Something tells me that Alice is someone I can trust and that she'd be a good friend to have.

_The Arizona night air is cooling, and I'm bundled up in my hoodie by the campfire. Angela is to my left, and on her other side, Ben. Tyler, having cleaned up after dinner, has made room on the log opposite me. He gives me a wink from across the flames, letting me know he's there. I smile back at my boyfriend._

_Over the past few months, our little campfire group has grown. Diego's sister, Lauren, has become a permanent fixture. She's started bringing her friend, Jessica, too._

_I don't particularly like them, but I'm being polite, for Diego's sake. Jessica doesn't climb—she prefers to watch—but Lauren is a quick study. She's long-limbed, giving her a great reach. What I need to do in two moves, she can do in one, at a stretch. She's not climbing the grades I am, but I can see that she's determined. She's got focus._

_She still gets one of the boys to carry her gear, though._

_The chatter around the campfire is easy. I don't really participate in any one conversation, preferring to listen in on the stories and tales being told around me. Diego is talking to Ben about growing up in California and how he learned climbing on the crags out of San Francisco. I'm surprised, at first, that Lauren didn't go with him, but he talks about how her cheerleading practice didn't allow her to get away much._

_Cheerleader. It figures. The girl is damn flexible._

_Yawning widely and stretching, my muscles deliciously aching from today's efforts, I bid Ange goodnight. Tyler doesn't look up from his conversation with Jessica._

_In the soft light of morning, when I wake up, the other half of our small tent is cold._

I look across the table at Alice. She seems so genuine that I don't think I can doubt her. I look down with a small smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Thanks, Alice," I say quietly. "I really appreciate it."

-~[YD]~-

I fall into an easy rhythm in my life in Seattle. I do some bouldering by myself on Monday evenings, climb with the others on Thursday nights, and enjoy my time relaxing at home and seeing the sights around the city on the weekends.

In the past few weeks, I've contributed a few articles to _The Seattle Times_ website. Tanya is pleased with the direction I've been taking, and while we've had a few letters asking where our "Bear Grylls Guy" has gone, my articles seem to be well received by our readers.

I've been making a concerted effort to appeal to a wide demographic with my writing. I want families to start spending time together, out in the fresh air, rather than looking at their own individual computer, TV, phone, and tablet screens. I want kids to not be afraid of getting dirty.

My goal is to encourage people to appreciate all that the outdoors has to offer. The challenge found in hiking in the mountains and taking in the view at the top. The adrenaline rush of ticking a climb. The peace you get only by sitting in a boat on a calm river.

Most of all, I want people to respect what the natural environment has to offer. To take nothing but pictures, capture nothing but memories, and to leave nothing but footprints.

Safe to say—I really, really love my job.

One Thursday night, after a few solid hours of climbing, I'm hanging out on the couches in the main open area of RockFace. Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, and I are having a chat over a few beers. Emmett is conducting a final check of the gym, making sure that all the ropes are tied off and the walls are in a safe condition for when Laurent opens for business tomorrow.

Alice asks, "How's your trip planning going, Bella?"

I stretch my legs out in front of me. "Really good," I reply. "I've got a few places planned, but I think I want to do a base camp then get in a hike and a few climbs from there."

"Where are you going?" Jasper questions, peeling the label from his beer.

"I'm doing a series on outdoor pursuits on the Olympic Peninsula, near where I grew up."

"Where was that, B?" Alice carefully examines a chipped nail before rustling through her bag for a nail file. Even when she's dressed in athletic clothing, she still makes the effort to look amazing. She truly believes that there's no excuse for not looking fabulous. "Port Angeles, wasn't it?"

"Close," I tell her. "Forks. Much smaller. I'm still sure it was hiking and climbing that kept me sane during my senior year."

We talk a little more about my time living in Forks and how different the environment was, in comparison to Arizona. The climate played a big part in that. Despite the rain, I'd still loved it.

Suddenly, it hits me.

"Oh, my God, you guys should come!" The cogs in my brain are turning, an idea forming in my head. "I could base a series on 'getaways for groups.'" My mind is racing. I'm already writing the opening paragraphs of my first article in my head.

Jasper looks at me, interested. "That sounds like fun, Bella. I haven't been away in so long."

I look to Rosalie. "How about you and Emmett, Rose? Would you like to come?"

Rose turns to face me directly. "I'll have to double check with Em. If you give us a few weeks' notice, we should be able to arrange coverage for this place." I think these are the most words she's said to me, ever. "Count us in, though. I'm sure Em will love it."

From the corner of my eye, I can see Alice bouncing excitedly in her seat. She doesn't need to say a word—her expression says it all. "This will be so much fun! Oh, but one thing, Bella."

I look at her expectantly. I wonder what's coming next.

"You have to let me arrange our accommodations. I'm all for enjoying the great outdoors, but there's no fucking way I'm sleeping on the ground. Unless it's on a shaggy rug in front of a blazing fire." She winks at her boyfriend, who looks at the floor with a wry grin.

I think about it for a second. While I'm no stranger to camping out, it seems the solid ground is a hard limit for my friend. "Deal. I'll trust you to find something...suitable. I've got a few contacts if you need a starting point."

Alice is already tapping furiously on her phone. "I'm a few steps ahead of you, B!"

I smile at my friends. My already fun trip is starting to sound even better.

The conversation easily drifts toward the things we could do and places we could see on our trip, before flowing to our experiences with other adventures.

"Have you been to El Cap, Bella?" Jasper asks.

I nod, rolling the round base of my beer on the arm of the couch. "I've been, but never climbed there. Big wall isn't really my thing. How about you?"

"No, but it is on my list. Just need to find the right partner to go with me. And do a hell of a lot of training in the meantime." He looks at Alice, raising an eyebrow. She laughs and shakes her head vehemently in the negative.

"No chance, cowboy," she says, slapping him on the chest. I'm glad it was with the hand not holding the nail file. "You know, there is someone who _might_ be up for it..."

Rose scoffs. "You mean, he _would_ have, once upon a time."

Alice tucks her bare feet beneath her. "He still might, you know. I mean, if you asked."

Jasper strokes Alice's hair, his arm resting along the back of the worn loveseat they share. "I think Rose is right, babe. I mean, he hasn't climbed real rock since—"

"What's up, party people?" Emmett interrupts. "Shit, I'm beat. Got one of those for me?" He takes a beer from the carton on the floor next to Rose, giving her a quick kiss in the process.

"Jasper wants to climb El Capitan," Alice tells Emmett. She pauses. "I just mentioned a potential climbing partner..."

Emmett lets out a loud, single, barking laugh. "If it's who I think you're suggesting, not fucking likely." He opens his beer, tossing the cap into the trashcan next to the front desk. "Seattle will swim before he climbs again. Fucking shame, really."

I'm lost—it's obvious they're talking about someone I don't know. "Who are you talking about?"

Alice opens her mouth to speak, but Rosalie cuts her off abruptly. "Not your tale to tell, Mary Alice. Let it go."

Alice looks chastised. "It's not fair. It wasn't his fault." Curled up on the couch, she looks like a little girl.

"That's something he needs to sort through by himself." Rose tosses her bottle into the trash. It's clear the conversation is over. "Are you ready to leave, Emmett? I want to go home."

"Sure thing, babe. Sorry, guys, I'm kicking you out." Emmett drains his beer, adding his empty bottle to Rosalie's in the trash.

Picking up my bag, I follow Alice and Jasper out the front door. Emmett and Rosalie are right behind us, Emmett activating the alarm and switching off all but the internal lobby light. He locks up and takes Rosalie's hand.

"Thanks for the climb, guys," I tell them, taking my keys out of my bag.

Alice gives me a smile and a wave and then heads toward Jasper's car. Even when tucked under her much taller boyfriend's arm, she matches his stride easily. I watch them walk away with a hint of envy before turning and unlocking my truck.

-~YD]~-

"I just wanted to say, guys, we've had some awesome comments on the blog lately. So, well done." Tanya looks proudly around the table at our team. "Big congrats to you, Bella. We're tapping into a new demographic. The mommies are eating up your 'my kids are driving me up the wall' articles. Keep it up!"

I grin, looking down at my notebook. I'm proud of that column. As an added bonus, Emmett has been getting some extra business. Alec offers me a low-key fist bump, which I return with a smile.

It's Friday morning, and Tanya has brought forward our usual Monday morning team catch-up.

"Now that we've covered sunshine and rainbows, I have to say—I'm a bit fucking worried about the next few months." In an instant, Tanya is in her serious sub-editor mode. "What have we got coming up? It needs to be good. We're on a roll." She looks at us expectantly.

"I'm working on a Seattle Spaces series," pipes up Eric. "You know, wide open spaces you can enjoy without leaving the city."

"Love it," Tanya says simply. "What else?"

I half-raise my hand, which is ridiculous, I know. Tanya minutely shakes her head, and I lower it again. "I'm doing a series on 'getaways with groups.'"

Tanya gesticulates emphatically, indicating I should move on. "Ah, yes. You mentioned that one. First trip in a few weeks?" I nod in reply. "Nice. Shoot me a draft when you have one. Next?"

Liam's tinny voice through the speaker in the middle of the table informs us of the upcoming articles he's working on. The others update the team, and Tanya's gaze falls to James. He's playing with his phone, not making eye contact.

"James?" Tanya arches a perfectly defined eyebrow. James lifts his greasy, blond head. "Something to share with the class?"

He steadies his gaze at her. It's ultra-creepy and sends a chill up my spine.

"No, Tanya," James replies, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Thanks for asking, though."

Tanya places her pen on the table in front of her and folds her hands neatly. Leaning forward, she locks James in her stare, like a cat would a caged bird. Keeping her voice level, she speaks. "What are you working on, James?"

The rest of us can only watch, intrigued by the stand-off happening before us.

James returns his attention to his phone. "Something about hunting, I guess." He shrugs flippantly. "You'll get something in your box by the end of the week."

My eyes widen. The boys chuckle, quiet murmurs of "that's what she said" can be heard. Tanya's eyes narrow, her red lips puckering slightly. Any fool can see that she's now fairly pissed off.

I shift in my seat awkwardly—our previous meetings haven't been like this. Either that, or in my new-girl haze, I haven't noticed.

"See that you send me a draft first before you publish anything, James," she says coolly. She returns her attention to the rest of us. "Thanks for the good work, everyone. Really, let's keep it up. I'm out of the office next week, but you can get me on my cell if you need me." Two seats away from me, I see James roll his eyes.

I walk out of the conference room and back to my desk with Alec, wondering what the hell just happened.

~-[YD]-~

It's early on Sunday afternoon, and I've already run out of things to keep me occupied. My apartment is clean, I've got my articles for the week drafted and sent to Tanya for proofing, and the meals I've prepared for the week are already in Tupperware containers and stacked in the freezer.

Now, I'm bored.

There's nothing of interest on TV, it's rained all week, and I've got cabin fever.

I'd intended on doing a short half-day hike with the guys this weekend, but my plans were derailed. Alice is busy designing after meeting with a new boutique during the week, Jasper and Rosalie are in Texas visiting their cousin's new baby, and Emmett has to cover for Laurent, who is owed vacation time.

Not that I'd probably have gone with Rosalie by myself, anyway. We're just not that close.

After truly running out of things to do short of alphabetizing my CD collection—I was not that desperate—I eye the backpack on the hallstand by the front door.

Getting up determinedly and grabbing the keys to my truck, I pick up the bag and head to the parking garage. Before long, I am rumbling up in front of RockFace.

Pulling my hood over my hair and dashing for the building, I burst through the door with a _ching_ of the bell and shake the droplets off my jacket. Emmett looks up from the climbing magazine he is flipping through.

"Chalky!" he greets me enthusiastically. "Long time no see!"

I laugh. "Emmett, I saw you on Thursday night."

"Well, that's a long time," he says dejectedly. "I'm lonely. I miss my Rosie."

"Awww," I coo sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dude. It's a shame you couldn't have gone with them."

Emmett perks up. "Not really," he says with a grin. "The cousin's not my biggest fan, anyway."

"Really?" I ask.

"Yeah." He grins evilly. "She's still pissed about me stripping to 'Baby Got Back' at her wedding."

I laugh, and it feels great. I feel like I haven't truly laughed in days. Since that awkward meeting on Friday... something just isn't sitting right. I get the feeling there's a storm brewing—and not just the one happening outside this building right now.

I hand Emmett my RockFace multi-pass for him to stamp, but he just waves me off. "Really, Chalky, you're doing me a favor by being here. I'm fucking bored—the place is a ghost town. I think something about the rain makes people forget they can actually come climbing. I mean, _duh_. It's an indoor gym."

I laugh again. "Thanks, Em. That's really nice of you." I return my pass to my wallet.

"What're you going to tackle this afternoon?"

"I'm not sure," I reply. "Anything new?"

"Ah, yes. There's a tricky new green route in the cave. Just went up yesterday." Emmett leans on the counter in front of him. "I think the route-setter called it, 'A Lick of the Wrist.'"

I giggle, even though I don't really get it. I don't need to—as long as it means something to the route-setter, that's all that really matters. "Well, you know what Fowler* said."

Emmett nods solemnly. "I hear ya, Chalks."

I head up the stairs to the mezzanine floor and into the cave. A quick look at the laminated piece of paper stuck to the wall just inside the door shows me the info for the routes in the cave. It has the route names, colors, and grades. Sure enough, I notice that my blue route is gone and, in its place, is the new green one.

Spying the stereo that Emmett has set up in the corner, I wander over and plug in my iPod, select a playlist, and hit play. Regina Spektor's quirky voice filters through the built-in speakers in the cave.

I plop myself down on the mat to stretch out, enjoying the time to take in the new route. Upon first visual inspection, it looks a bit more challenging than "Chalked Up." Definitely reachier—reachier _is_ a word, by the way—but there are a few, well-placed, juggy holds on the ceiling. At least they'll give me a break…of some sorts.

Lacing my too-tight shoes and rolling the chalk ball from my bag in my hands, I head over to the holds near the doorway. Always a creature of habit, I reach, push, and lunge my way around the cave, before turning back and doing it the other way.

My hands are still feeling okay, but I don't doubt that this new green beast is going to kill me. This will take me a few attempts, surely.

Some time and quarter of a Led Zeppelin album later, I still can't get past the shitty layback* move about a quarter of the way around. Whoever set this must be tall—and totally discriminatory to short people. Sure, the next hold is rather...protruding...but for me, it's just too fucking far away.

Lying face-up on the floor mat and rolling my wrists, I stare intently at the colored, bobbled wall, silently begging the too-far-away holds to shift a little closer. The music isn't loud enough to drown out the two sets of footfalls across the mezzanine floor, or the accompanying voices.

"Seriously, dude. It was a chick that ticked it." —Emmett.

"'Chalked Up'? No fucking way. You didn't tell me that! I only pulled that one off twice myself."—Unknown man.

"I'm telling you, dude, she's badass." I smile at Emmett's praise. The footsteps seem to pass by the door to the cave.

Giving myself a quiet little fist pump at my "badassness," I hop to my feet with a boost of confidence. I wriggle my fingers, chalk my hands, and take position back on the wall at the layback.

With my feet on separate, reasonable-sized holds, my hands are spaced around shoulder-width apart. I'm leaning back, my weight centered just outside my right foot. Adjusting my feet to the next holds, I look again at the next reach. While it's not impossible, I'm going to need some serious momentum.

Focusing on the hold over my head, I block everything else out. I need both my arms and legs to gain momentum. I swing my whole body once...twice...three times. At full stretch, I reach, and hold my breath.

My right hand grasps around the next hold. Using my feet to scramble, I finish with my feet locked around two hook-shaped holds, both hands grasping the large, comfortable plastic shape above my head. Pleased with myself, I close my eyes and just hang there for a minute, relishing in my own badassness.

"Nice Dyno*, Chalky!" Emmett's voice resonates through the small space as he gives me a single-man ovation.

"Your name is Chalky?" a silken voice asks. My eyes fly open.

Standing in the cave opening, leaning casually on the side of the doorframe with perfect forearms crossed, is the Bulldozer.

Turns out I was right. He is _definitely_ a climber.

This is the first time I've seen him not dressed up. He's dressed with comfortable, climbing-friendly, weekend style—wearing cargo shorts and a fitted black tee. He has flip-flops on his feet and dangles a pair of expensive-looking climbing shoes by their laces from his long fingers. He uses his free hand to rake his fingers through his hair.

I'm still hanging. Not saying anything.

Emmett looks at the Bulldozer, then to me. He turns back to the man in the doorway. "I call her Chalky because she smashed your boulder."

"_You_ cleared my route?" His voice is beautiful. I could unplug my iPod and listen to it all day. He quirks an eyebrow at me. It looks funny, given that I'm all but hanging upside down by my hands and feet. "But, how?" he asks, brow furrowed. "You're so little."

I still haven't said a word since they walked in.

Suddenly, Edward's expression shifts from incredulous to amused. He looks above my head. Shifting his shoes to hold them in front of him, he unsuccessfully stifles a chuckle. "Nice grip you've got there."

I follow his gaze, looking above me to the handhold that I'm clinging to with both hands. I don't see anything wrong with it—it's keeping me from hitting the floor. Although, on closer inspection…it does look rather...phallic.

Understanding dawning on me, I gasp, forgetting myself for a moment, and let go.

My body swings downward in an arc, and I shriek. My feet, still locked in position on the loops hanging from the roof, act as a pivot point. Before I know it, I've done almost a complete half-circle, my feet release, and I land on the mat, flat on my belly, with an _oof_.

I lift my head slightly to see Emmett and Edward, doubled over in the doorway. They're both laughing their asses off.

I give the two of them my dirtiest look in return. They laugh harder.

Scrambling to my feet, my shoes sink gently into the mat. I put both of my chalky fists on my hips and stare down the cackling duo, silently daring them to keep going.

Emmett stops mid-laugh. The Bulldozer tapers off. Green eyes boring into my brown ones, he takes two steps toward me. He clears his throat. Mine goes dry.

I get the impression that Edward unknown-last-name usually gets his way. His stance, the way he speaks, and the way he carries himself, all ooze confidence. Yeah, well, two can play that game.

The music on the stereo changes, and "Kashmir" fills the cave. Embracing my inner rock-goddess, I square my shoulders and with a slight sway to my hips, brush by Edward on the way to the cave opening—and the start of the boulder.

I grasp the green handholds. With a jaunty look over my shoulder, I keep my gaze steady on the emerald-eyed man, who is still standing in the middle of the bouldering cave.

"If you don't mind, _boys_…" I eyeball Edward from head to toe, and back up again. "…I've got another mediocre boulder to knock off."

Edward's eyebrows briefly shoot into his copper-bronze hair before settling at a normal height and narrowing.

"Excuse me?" he splutters. "_Mediocre_?"

From the doorway, Emmett laughs. I smile triumphantly.

Oh yes, Mister. _Game on._

.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh yes. Game on, indeed. Let me know what you think? Alerts are awesome, but I love words. Even if it's just one ;) Don't want to review? Stalk me on twitter - magtwi78. Oooh, I also have a blog. I post teasers there—they tend to appear there before anywhere else. My blog link is on my profile.

**Some Definitions:**

Layback: A rock climbing move where the body is supported using both the hands and the feet.

Dyno: A dynamic move that requires momentum.

Charlie Fowler was a legendary American climber, mountaineer, writer and photographer. He climbed some of the best, including a bunch of the world's highest peaks (Everest and Cho Oyu to name a few), as well as some epic free solo efforts. They renamed a known Colorado route after him, calling it the 'Casual Route' after he made it look like a piece of cake. He's quoted as saying "Anybody can put up a classic route, but it takes real talent to come up with a great route name." I totally agree with him.

Sadly, Charlie and his climbing partner died after going missing while climbing in southwestern China.

**Some Recs:**

Leave them a review, and tell 'em I sent ya.

On A Limb, by BelieveItOrNot: Sweet, short, _complete_ story about young love, and finding out who you are. It's absolutely adorable.

Symmetry, by aftrnoondlight (WIP): It's a love story in EPOV, which I'm always a sucker for.

The Going for the Gold contest: An Olympic-themed, anonymous contest hosted by coldplaywhore. They have a FFnet account, so go check that out: goingforthegoldcontest. I'm looking forward to the stories coming out of this one. Did I mention it's anonymous? Yeah.


	4. Chapter 4: Savage

**A/N: **My beautiful beta babes are RaindropSoup and mcc101180. They fix my comma splices, dialog tags, and say lovely things that talk me down from the edge. My perfect prereader princesses are TwiSNFan and Louisemc86. They give me giggles in google docs and titillate me on twitter. My readers and reviewers rock my world.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. The Bulldozer owns me.

**Chapter 4**

**Savage **- a climb that has given you great satisfaction and you are very proud of.

* * *

_**Previously...**_

"_If you don't mind, _boys_." I eyeball Edward from head to toe, and back up again. "I've got another mediocre boulder to knock off."_

_Edward's eyebrows briefly shoot into his copper-bronze hair, before settling at a normal height and narrowing._

"_Excuse me?" he splutters. "_Mediocre_?"_

_From the doorway, Emmett laughs. I smile triumphantly._

_Oh yes, Mister. _Game on_._

* * *

I was looking for a reaction. I think I got one.

Jade eyes flash at me, and his jaw sets. I've hit a nerve.

Ignoring the other two people in the cave and placing my feet on the starting holds, I concentrate on nothing but the feel of the plastic in my hands, the footholds beneath the grippy rubber of my shoes, and the next move.

Starting at the beginning, I make my way around to the layback easily. Now that I know what I need to do, the move comes easily. I let my body swing and call on all of my muscles to propel me to the hold that caused the problems to start with. With my feet locked and my hands gripping, I look over my shoulder—Emmett is sitting on the floor of the cave and is eating a packet of chips while he watches with interest. Edward stands in the middle of the cave with his arms crossed and gaze steely.

With a wink at the Bulldozer, I release one hand. I reach back behind me and into my chalk bag. Re-gripping, I repeat with the other hand. Dusting the excess chalk off on my hip, I stretch for the next move. It's a relatively easy one and allows me to move on quickly.

At the two-third point, I'm really starting to feel the burn in my hands and calf muscles. The sweat builds between my shoulder blades, and I do my best to ignore the fire in my forearms.

I will not show that I'm starting to struggle.

Edward has moved back to the doorway, leaning against the frame, while Emmett sits at his feet. He's still munching noisily on his chips.

I can hear them speaking, but I pay no attention to what they're saying. I need to keep my focus.

I think I've figured out how Edward prefers to set his routes now. It's a stretch if you're tall, but not impossible. For someone like me, of somewhat-limited height, it's different. I need to apply a bit of lateral thinking.

Although my reach isn't great, I can hold on for ages. I do enough running that my thighs and calves allow to get me a fair amount of propulsion, and the time spent here over the last few weeks has served me well.

To my further advantage—here, in the cave, I have no fear. There are plenty of mats below me, so falling isn't going to hurt. My pride might be though; I just need to make sure I don't embarrass myself.

_Have faith in yourself, Swan._

I've got two moves to go. I look for the next one and again, its way out of my reach. I'd need to be at full extension on both my right arm and leg to get it. I settle into the relatively comfortable position I'm in and re-chalk my hands, one at a time. I need to think.

I'm aware of two pairs of eyes still on me. Over my shoulder, I hear a low chuckle.

"You seem to be having a few problems there," the cocky voice over my shoulder points out.

"No shit," I mutter under my breath.

"You know," starts Emmett, seemingly through a mouthful of chips. "If you just switch feet—"

"No helping." The Bulldozer cuts him off. "If the route is so—what was it—_mediocre_, she doesn't need any help, does she?" His voice is full of over-the-top confidence. We're talking beyond cocky now. He's bordering on impertinent.

That provides the incentive I need. There is no way I'm letting this fucker—the wall or the man—get the better of me.

I place my weight on my right foot. If I nail this, it'll look fucking awesome. If I don't, well...I'm going to eat mat. Hard.

I switch the angle on my right foot so the outside of my ankle is pressing into the wall. Plastering a look of absolute determination on my face, I give the wall an almighty shove with my left hand and left foot at the same time. My body swings like a barn door, and using my right foot as a pivot point, I whip my head to look over my left shoulder, spotting the next handhold. My back hits the wall with a thud, and I snatch at the green piece of plastic almost blindly. I lock my left foot onto a foothold, and I'm now at full-stretch, my legs spread at a rather unladylike angle.

Gripping on to the wall with all I'm worth, I hold on and face my audience, my chest heaving.

Edward's eyes widen, and I swear his perfect jaw hits the floor. Emmett chokes on his chips.

I grin.

Pulling myself up and stepping easily up onto the next hold, I turn back to face the wall. I make the next few moves easily. Reaching the last handhold, I slap it with my hand with everything I've got, complete the route, and hop daintily to the floor.

Emmett swears.

Edward says nothing.

I brush my hands off on my leggings, my legs trembling. My hands feel so weak that I'm sure I wouldn't be able to hold a glass of water right now.

I can't interpret the look on Edward's face right now. He's still staring at me, his green eyes blazing. Without a word, I retrieve my iPod from the dock. I walk toward the doorway where the route list is stuck to the wall, my shoulder brushing against Edward along the way. I look again at the information provided:

A Lick Of A Wrist - B3

Route setter: E. Cullen.

First:

Oh, _now_ I get it.

I pick up the Sharpie marker that is tied to the wall next to the paper. With a shaky hand, I scrawl my first name next to First.

I turn to face Edward and Emmett, who has risen to his feet and is now standing next to the route setter.

"A lick of a wrist," I remark dryly with an arched eyebrow. "Really?"

Edward, again, says nothing.

"Well...here's a flick of mine."

Flouncing out the doorway, I reach my hand up, over my shoulder, and flip him off. As I walk toward the stairs, I hear Emmett say, "told you she was badass."

It's not until I'm back in my truck, heart pounding, that I realize I concentrated more on getting out of there than changing out of my climbing shoes.

-~[YD]~-

I'm typing away at my hot desk in the _Seattle Times_ office when a familiar voice calls over the partition. "Bella, do you have lunch plans?"

I smile as I finish the sentence I'm typing. Alice has, by this time, appeared in front of my desk. I'm back on our regular schedule of Monday morning meetings. James wasn't in today, which, to be quite honest, I'm somewhat relieved of. The guy gives me the creeps—and the last meeting with him was just plain awkward.

"Nothing set in stone, Alice. I was just going to grab something at the deli downstairs."

"Japanese?" she asks, hefting her super-sized designer bag over her shoulder.

I nod enthusiastically before picking up my own, less-ostentatiously sized bag and follow her rapid-fire heels toward the elevator. We wave at the Facebook-fascinated receptionist, Gianna, on our way through—she doesn't even notice we're there. I have no idea how that girl still has a job.

Reaching the shiny elevator, Alice daintily presses the down button before inspecting her makeup in the polished reflection of the doors.

After being seated at a comfortable table for two and ordering lunch, Alice opens her bag to bring out a tablet. Tapping on the screen, she brings up a website and turns it to face me. A large mountain cabin is the main image on the screen.

"I've found it!" she proclaims cheerfully. "Accommodations for our trip! Isn't it fabulous?"

The web page definitely looks impressive. The image of the cabin slowly morphs into rolling pictures of scenery, people wandering along trails, happy couples canoeing on a river, and softly falling snow.

It isn't what I'm used to on my low-budget, low-key trips, but I have to admit—it looks amazing.

"Alice, it looks beautiful," I tell her, "but there's no way I can afford something like that."

"Aha, my dear, penny-conscious friend," Alice replies with a tap on the side of her nose. "It's all taken care of."

"I can't ask you to—"

"You didn't," she says, cutting me off. "And besides, _Seattle Time_s is taking care of it." I look at her blankly.

"You're writing an article, right?" I nod. "Yes, well, the lodge was only too happy to provide a discounted rate. So, Tanya is picking up the tab."

I blink. To be honest, I hadn't considered approaching Tanya to have the _Times_ pay for accommodations, especially for my friends and me. When I did freelance, I always paid for my lodging out of my commission. But, seeing that I'm no longer working on commission...well, I suppose it makes sense.

I smile across at Alice, popping a piece of sashimi into my mouth. "You've got a deal, then," I tell her.

"Fantastic!" She claps her hands and jiggles in her chair. I swear, if I could bottle her energy, I could sell it for a fortune. "It'll easily fit all of us. It has four bedrooms, a jacuzzi, open fireplace, gorgeous kitchen, amazing views..."

I have to admit, it does sound pretty nice. The weather is starting to cool, so it would be a welcome relief to not spend a few nights on the ground. Even though I have great equipment, I'm rather looking forward to "roughing it" in style.

We spend the rest of lunch generally catching up and sipping tea. Alice tells me about the small, independent boutique downtown that wants to sell some of her clothing. She's been designing like a mad-woman, but she tells me she has some awesome results.

"Speaking of which, I have a few things for you. I'll bring them into the gym on Thursday night."

"You don't have to give me clothes, Alice."

"Nonsense," she says, waving me off. "You've got, like, the perfect physique. Athletic, curvy, but toned. You'd be like a walking advertisement for me."

Her logic astounds me, but then again, Alice usually baffles me. Glancing quickly at my watch, I realize I should get back to the office. After paying, we stand out in front of the restaurant. Alice gestures toward the opposite direction.

"I've gotta head downtown," she tells me. "I've got to meet a photographer for a fashion spread we're doing. We're using the Seattle skyline as a backdrop. It's going to be great. I'll email you the details for the cabin, OK?"

I give her a little wave before heading back to the office. I'll get in a few more hours before heading to the gym for a boulder. I'm still feeling freaking awesome about nailing the new green one—particularly in front of the cocky, incredibly good-looking route setter.

Last week, I skipped my usual Monday night boulder, the day after my epic badassness on that stupidly-named new green route. Truth be told—I could barely fucking walk.

I was so very, very glad that I had no reason to be in the office because, to be completely honest, a few hours on that route had killed me. I'd soaked myself in bath salts to try and ease the burning ache in my muscles on both Sunday and Monday. I'd attempted a run, before making it less than halfway on my usual path and having to turn around to go back home with my tail between my shaking, painful legs.

By the time Thursday rolled around, I was able to walk again without a noticeable limp. This, I considered a success, given my state earlier in the week. I still didn't try anything too extreme, though. I'd also politely declined Jasper's speed-climbing challenge.

A quiet weekend that included some cleaning, a few long-overdue emails to Renee and Charlie, a run around the new park Alec had told me about, and a well-earned solo movie night gave me all the recuperation I needed to feel good for this week.

Today, I feel great. I just have a few more hours in the office before going for a quick boulder in the gym. Then it's home nice and early for dinner, hot tea, and a night of trashy TV.

Tanya's office door is ajar. I'm about to knock when I hear raised voices. Well, only one raised voice. And she sounds severely pissed.

"I don't care, James. Those meetings are non-negotiable, unless you're out in the field...You know damn well what the rules are...No, that's crap. You know it...Yes, I know who your father is...Yes, I know who you are, too...Fine. Whatever. Just make sure you're here tomorrow at nine."

Sensing that the heated conversation is over, I knock gently on the door. Tanya sounds defeated when she calls in a soft, muffled voice, "Come in."

I poke my head around the corner of the slightly-open door. "Is now not a good time?" I ask quietly. She waves her hand.

"No, Bella, of course it's fine. What can I do for you, hon?" Tanya smiles weakly. This is not the strong woman I'm used to.

"I just wanted to run this by you," I tell her as I push a piece of paper across the desk. She motions for me to sit, and I settle into one of the two comfortable arm chairs facing her desk. "It's the schedule for the trip I have planned."

"Of course," Tanya says, her voice lighter. "It looks great. I've asked the lodge to invoice us. Of course, the _Times_ will cover the cabin. We just request that your group picks up the tab for food and any incidentals."

"Okay," I reply. "We're going to, hopefully, use one of the local guide groups for the practical stuff. I've had replies from most of them, and there's only one that hasn't gotten back to me. Unfortunately, they're all busy. I'm hoping Quake Outdoors will be available. If not, no matter. I'll lead the program myself."

I was really hoping not to have to do that. The guide providers had stuff I didn't: insurance, easy access to med-evac, and equipment. While I had no qualms heading out by myself into the wilderness, I wasn't comfortable leading a group of four others whose experience I couldn't be perfectly sure of.

Tanya slides her reading glasses down her nose, before standing and handing my paper back to me. I skim it as she speaks. "It looks great, Bella. I'm sure the six of you will have a blast. I'm looking forward to reading the article. If it goes well, we might be able to stretch the concept to a wider scope."

Pleased with by her praise, I smile and walk toward the door. With one hand on the door handle, I turn to face my boss. She is rubbing her temples with her lavender-colored fingertips. "Are you okay, Tan?"

Tanya takes a deep breath before letting it out. "I'll be fine, Bella. It's just, when I signed up for this, when I was younger, I did it because I loved the water, you know?" I nod in understanding. For me, it's the same concept with a different element. She shakes her head, as if to rid the thoughts from underneath her strawberry blonde hair. "Just promise me something. Don't let any assholes take advantage of you, okay?"

I give her a grim smile as I walk through the door, closing it gently behind me.

-~[YD]~-

I'm still in the process of tying together some loose ends for the trip in a few weeks, and I've left my number and a message with a few climbing and hiking tour providers on the Olympic Peninsula.

I'm making myself a coffee, one Wednesday afternoon, when my phone rings. Picking it up and tapping the green button before thinking, I don't recognize the Washington number.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Bella?" The deep, husky voice is one I have not heard in years. Hearing it again lightens my heart and takes me back to happy times. Times where I was truly loved for who I was. This is a voice that sounds like home.

"Jacob?"

"Holy shit, Bells! Are you the chick from the _Times_?" Jacob's voice booms through the phone. I hold the handset away from my ear as I laugh.

"Yes, Jake, that'd be me. Why are you calling? How did you get my number?"

I can almost hear the boy who was my best friend in high school roll his eyes. "You called me, Swan." He pauses. "It's still Swan, isn't it? I mean, you're not married?"

"It's still Swan..." I laugh bitterly. "What do you mean I called you?"

"Quake Outdoors ring any bells, Bells?"

Realization hits me. "Quake is you?"

"Well, not all me," he replies modestly. "My buddy Quil, too. We started up a couple of years ago, mostly taking tourists on short walks and stuff. We're much bigger now, though. We do overnighters with school groups, take university groups climbing, and some canoeing and stuff." He sounds incredibly proud.

"That's fantastic, Jake!" I enthuse. "So, is it just you and Quil, or do you have help?"

"We've got four of us on permanently—me, Quil, his girlfriend Claire, and our other buddy, Embry. Remember him?" I murmur in the affirmative. "Anyway, we employ seasonal staff for when we're really busy or for big accounts like school groups or corporate escapes. Otherwise, it's just the four of us."

I'm in awe. I haven't seen Jake since I left Forks for college. At the time, he was always getting into trouble. His dad, Billy, had been Chief of the tribe at La Push. Sadly, he'd died during my senior year. Jake was still a junior at the time. My dad had told me that Jake almost didn't graduate. Thankfully, his sisters made him pull his head out of his butt and get his high school diploma. After that, last I heard, he'd packed up his truck and headed east.

"We have so much to catch up on, Jake. It's been such a long time. I can't believe Charlie didn't tell me you were back." I made a note to bring that up with my dad the next time I spoke to him.

"From your message, it sounds like that'll be soon." His voice softens. "I've really missed you, Bells."

I close my eyes. "I've missed you too, Jake."

We chat a while longer about the activities our group could do while we're there. Jake tells me that we can bring our own gear if we have it, but they'll supply big stuff like canoes and kayaks if we'd like to hit the water. I'm not sure how well that will go down with Alice. I tell him I'll let him know the activities we'd like to do closer to the date.

As we hang up, I flop back onto the couch, my heart aching a little. I've really missed my best friend.

-~[YD]~-

Thursday night, I stroll into the gym with a spring in my step. I'm still buoyed by the conversation with Jake, and I'm incredibly excited about the upcoming trip. It's a chance to be back close to home and enjoy some time with my friends—new and old.

"Chalky!" I smile at the familiar greeting as Emmett walks out from behind the counter to give me a bear hug. He lifts me off the ground in the process, and I laugh freely. "You seem happy. What's got you all bushy-tailed? Is it a guy?"

I roll my eyes. "Honestly, Emmett, you're worse than a girl." He snorts at me. "It is a guy, but not what you think. I found out yesterday that our main guide is going to be my old best friend from home."

"Small world!" he responds. "I'm really looking forward to this trip. It's going to be awesome!" He offers me a big fist, which I bump in return.

"Are the others here yet?" I look around for my friends.

Emmett shakes his head. "Rose has a few more clients. She should be done in an hour. Alice and Jasper are on their way, though. Jas just texted me. Just you and me for now!" He throws a big arm around me.

All of my Seattle friends are really affectionate. It must be the cold weather—it was much too hot to hug back in Arizona.

"Climb or boulder?" I ask.

"Climb, for sure," he says. "Besides, you—bouldering? Yeah, too distracting." He waggles his eyebrows.

I hit him playfully on the arm. We haven't spoken again of my bouldering efforts from last week. Nor have we spoken of my somewhat inappropriate parting gesture, although I suspect that it's simmering below the surface. Knowing Emmett, he's waiting for his moment.

We have a bit of a play on some of the longer routes on the ground floor. As I'm hovering above the mezzanine level, chalking my hands and planning my next move, I look across the expanse of the warehouse. I love being up this high. I think back to when I started climbing.

Jake, Quil, Embry and I used to do some bouldering and rock scrambling around the cliffs at La Push beach. Looking back, it was probably pretty dangerous. At the time, we thought we were invincible.

It was when some of the older boys from the Res began really showing us the ropes—pun intended—that we started to have fun with it. After time, we graduated to top-rope and then to traditional climbing. We mostly borrowed cams, nuts, hexes, and other protection devices from the older boys. They taught us not to kill ourselves.

When we'd started top-roping, I'd told them I was afraid of heights. Sam, one of the older guys, explained to me that the height wasn't the thing to be feared. Being up so high isn't a problem—it's when you fall that things got ugly. So, my fear wasn't a fear of heights—it was a fear of falling. As long as my gear was well placed and I didn't take stupid risks, I'd be safe. It made complete sense to me. Total lightbulb moment.

I'd used that philosophy many times since—in both climbing and in life.

From below, I hear Alice's voice call to me, shaking me from my daydream. "I'll be down in just a minute!" I call back.

I finish the climb in a few more moves, tap the bar at the top, and call to Emmett. "Dirt me!"

Emmett obliges, lowering me to the ground.

After unclipping my harness, I turn to Alice, who gives me a hug. "Hi, Jasper."

Jasper greets me in return, tightening his own harness. "Where's my crazy sister?" he asks.

Emmett opens his mouth to respond, when Rosalie appears beside him. "Have some respect for your elders," she says, ruffling Jasper's hair. He scowls at her. I laugh.

"I never got my rematch," comments Jasper, levelling his eyes at his sister. She snorts in response.

"If you felt like getting a whipping, you should have just said so. Belay for me, Bella?"

I smile. "Not a problem," I reply. The five of us walk up the stairs and set up at the Coke wall—the unofficial speed-climbing wall of choice at RockFace.

After everyone is harnessed and appropriately tied in, Alice calls the start. "Ready, set, GO!"

Rosalie is quick—I need to be just as fast on belay to keep up with her. I get into a rhythm as she moves up the wall. I don't really have the time to see who wins—that job is left to Alice. Judging from Jasper's cry at the top, I'm guessing it's him.

"And the crowd goes wild! Roaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrr!"

"Whatever, young'un," Rose responds as I lower her to the ground. She unclips and hands me the carabiner. "Your turn."

I hesitantly take the 'biner from her and clip it to my own harness. Every time a speed-climbing challenge has been thrown down, I've either gone home or been responsible for calling the start—being the center of attention with cheering and screaming isn't my thing.

"Ahh, what the hell." I chalk my hands and clap off the excess. Turning to my opponent—who is cackling at me evilly—I extend my arm. Narrowing my eyes, I beckon with four fingers—just like Morpheus.

"Bring it, Chalky." Emmett grins. I grin back and place my hands on the wall.

"The rules are, there are no rules," Alice says. "First to the top wins, use any hold you can get your hands on, and the edges of the wall are fair game if you think they'll help you get there faster. Okay, then!" She raises her hand before dropping it dramatically. "Ready, set, GO!"

I use my legs to push me as far as I can go, reaching for a large jug hold with my right hand at the same time. As I grasp my fist around it, the hold pivots on the screw that is holding it to the wall. Rose wasn't expecting my big lunge and has not yet taken up all of the slack in the rope.

My hand slips from the hold, and I hit the floor, landing heavily on the outside edge of my foot.

Put simply, it hurts like a motherfucker. I cry out in pain.

"Oh, my God, Bella! I'm so sorry!" Rose unclips from the belay device and rushes to my side, where I sit curled up at the bottom of the wall. Tears spring in my eyes.

"It's okay, Rose, really," I grit out. I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. She takes my foot in her hands and cradles it gently.

Alice skips over, phone in hand. "What do you think, Rose?"

Rosalie is examining my ankle. I wince when she touches the outside of it. "It's just a sprain, I think. She should have it looked at, though."

"I'm already on it," Alice responds, phone to her ear. "Hi, it's me. Are you on your way? ...Good...Yeah, my friend hurt herself. I need you to look at her...Okay, we will...Okay...I'll get Emmett to do that...'kay...Bye." She turns to Emmett, who has since been lowered back to the ground. "My cousin's on his way. Em, you need to go and get some ice."

Emmett walks away from us quickly, his large form disappearing down the staircase. Rose is telling me to steady my breathing, which I'm trying really hard to do. Jasper has gone to wait in the entrance for whoever Alice called, and Alice...Alice is dancing all around me.

"Please, Al, can you sit down?" I plead. "You're making me dizzy." The pain is severe, and my ankle is already starting to look like it has a purple golf ball attached to it. I glance away.

Within what seems like minutes, Emmett has returned with an ice pack. Rosalie gently applies it to my ankle. She's in the process of wrapping an Ace bandage around it when Jasper appears at the top of the stairs. Behind him...

Holy shit, could this night get any fucking worse?

Carrying a black medical bag and looking as hot as ever in black dress pants, shiny black shoes, and a white pinstriped business shirt—sleeves rolled up—is the Bulldozer.

I can't help it—it must be the pain talking. Polite Bella has left the building. "What the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

"_You're_ Alice's friend?" he retorts.

I look at Alice. "The Bulldozer is your _cousin_?"

Alice looks at the Bulldozer. "_You're_ the Bulldozer?"

The Bulldozer looks back at Alice. "_What_ did you call me?"

Emmett looks at me with some form of recognition. "Oh! You're the brunette with great tits that fell in the lobby?"

I look at Edward. Pain and disbelief show in the screech in my voice. "You said _what_ about me?"

No one can say anything else—because tiny Alice has leapt onto Edward's back and is shrieking while swatting wildly at his head. He has dropped his medical bag and is attempting to field her blows.

I turn to Rosalie. "What the hell is going on?" She drops her head and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"This place is a fucking madhouse."

* * *

**A/N: **Oh, Chalky. I've done that. She's right—it really, really hurts. What's the hurtiest thing you've done to yourself? (Don't judge me, hurtiest is a word! It's on the internet now—it must be a word)

**Some Recs: Leave 'em a review!**

If you follow me on twitter, you'll know I have a love affair with **High Fidelity** by **iReen.** She completed it this week. If you were waiting for it to finish, run, don't walk. It will change you. iReen has the most beautiful way with the English language, that I want to swim to San Francisco just so she'll say things to me. It's her bravery to post HiFi that motivated me to put YD out there.

Speaking of completed fics - **A Pound of Flesh** by **jaxon22 **completed this week, too. Worth a re-read from start to fin.

Another short, sweet and complete: **My Angel Is A Centerfold** by **SophiaAnne**. Only 5 chaps, but a cute, well-rounded story. Check it out.

**Some definitions:**

Traditional climbing: A style of rock climbing where climbers place all gear to protect them from falling. There's no top rope to hold you, nor are there bolts to clip onto (as there are in Sport climbing).

Cam: A spring-loaded device used for protection.

Hex (short for hexcentric): A hexagonal shaped nut that is attached to a flexible looped wire. You stick it into a crack and use it as a protection point on the rock.

Protection: Ooh, the innuendo! In the climbing sense, protection is stuff that stops you from falling and killing yourself. In trad climbing, a lead climber (first one up) goes and places protection for the seconders, or followers, to use. Can get expensive if you forget to collect it at the end of the day. That's what gumbies are good for—they usually forget to grab all their gear. In sport climbing, protection is pre-placed bolts that are permanently stuck into the rock.


	5. Outtake: Watch me! (EPOV)

**A/N: **It's my lovely beta's birthday! A very happy birthday to mcc101180! This is for you :)

Big, big, BIG thanks to TwiSNFan and RaindropSoup for beta'ing this lil outtake at a moment's notice.

This takes place during Chapter 2 in the bar.

And now without further ado, may I introduce...The Bulldozer.

* * *

**Outtake: Chapter 2**

"**Watch me!"** - A call used during climbing, usually right before a climber is about to do something epically stupid.

**BPOV (BulldozerPOV, that is)**

Fuck, I'm bored.

I'm so, _so_ fucking bored.

I lean back into the booth and sigh. I'm watching my fingers intently as I hold my glass, swirling it in a circular motion on its base. The viscous amber liquid clings to the sides of the glass. It's mesmerizing.

The fact that a glass of Scotch is the most exciting thing that's happened today is...well...a little depressing. I throw back the glass, letting the tasty burn singe my throat and warm my insides. A smile and a nod at the blonde waitress who's been hovering is enough to get a replacement in no time.

_So fucking bored._

Work is good. I mean, I've got a pretty cushy job these days. I did my time in med school, survived my residency, and was taken under the wing of one of my professors—one of Seattle's premier orthopedic surgeons. Most of my work is as a consultant to other ortho surgeons; the rest is predominantly in performing elective surgeries. Although, according to some insurance companies, things like hip replacements in little old ladies who can barely walk counts as "elective." As if walking is elective. Makes no sense to me—but, what can you do?

There was a time that I was ultra-busy—when I tackled riskier shit. All through college I studied hard, partied hard, and spent every spare moment out on the rock.

I laugh bitterly as I sip my Scotch. That was a long fucking time ago—so many things have changed since then.

That's why I'm sitting here in _Cantante, _curled up in my regular booth on a Friday night instead of shooting the shit around a campfire and knocking back beers.

It's also why I'm here alone.

My boys invited me out with them, but they're both with their girls—one of whom is my cousin and has been with my buddy, Jasper, since forever. And my friend, Emmett, is with Rose. Who's Jasper's twin sister.

Yeah, I can't even keep that shit straight in my own head.

Regardless, I hate being the fifth wheel—so here I am.

"Mmmm. Hello, stranger," a high-pitched, nasally voice wheedles behind me.

_Fuck me_.

I switch on the grin. "Hello, Victoria." _Now, fuck off already._

Disappointingly, she sits. Batting her lashes, she takes my glass from me in what she thinks is probably a flirtatious, feminine wile. Taking a sip, she wrinkles her surgically-enhanced nose. It hardly moves.

"Ugh! How do you drink that shit?" She pushes the glass back across the table to me and calls a waitress. Strangely, the blonde waitress from before has vanished.

I raise my head toward Raoul, the barman. He gives me a nod and reaches for the top shelf. Yeah, it's presumptuous, but Raoul knows what I like, and I tip well.

Across the table from me, Victoria leans on her elbows, forcing her solid, unnatural breasts upward. She flips her fiery red hair over her shoulder—again, in a move I'm sure she thinks is flattering. She looks fucking ridiculous.

"So, Eddie," she croons. I shudder. "Wanna get out of here?"

The blonde waitress is back and places a fresh glass in front of me. "Can I get you anything else?" she asks, blatantly ignoring Victoria's attempts to capture her attention.

"No, thanks," I reply coolly. The blonde walks away. I turn to Victoria and pointedly add, "To either of you."

"Aww," she says breathily, again at an attempt to be teasing. She sounds asthmatic. "I'm sure we could have some fun."

"This is doing the job just fine," I tell her, rolling my glass. She needs to leave, but she isn't taking the hint.

She titters—a vapid, airy laugh that mirrors the likely state between her ears. She touches my bare skin, running a long fingernail from my watch, up my arm, and to where my sleeve is rolled near my elbow. I pull my hand away and grasp my glass with both hands. "Oh, come on, Eddie."

"Victoria," I say evenly. It's time to bring out the big guns. "Even though we're not at work, what you're doing is bordering on sexual harassment. You should leave..." I lean forward "...or, you're fucking fired."

She huffs. "See you on Monday, _Dr. Cullen._"

"Goodnight, Victoria."

I watch as she storms towardthe ladies room, presumably to powder her uncommonly straight nose. Well, not so uncommon—I think I saw the exact same nose on the cover of one of my cousin's fashion magazines just last week.

I don't understand it. When did women get the bizarre notion that the fake, plastic look is attractive? Give me a natural beauty any day.

Take the perfect example I saw earlier this week. Scratch that—she wasn't perfect, which made her exactly so. Long, silky, mahogany hair to her waist. Deep, chocolate-brown eyes that could encourage a man to tell a thousand stories without a word spoken from her rose-petal lips.

The most brilliant part was her temper.

_Fuck._

First, I was just plain pissed when she crashed into me—I initially thought it was that new kid Emmett employed to tidy up the gym and keep the routes in line. Easy mistake to make—she was so little.

I could imagine picking her up, setting her right on Emmett's counter, and...

But, I digress.

That's right—her temper. Her bag of stuff had gone flying across the floor in all directions—in it was totally random shit for a girl. Of course, there was the usual stuff that women carry around: deodorant, lip gloss, iPod, wallet, tampons—what? they were right there—and a cell phone. Then, there was the slightly more unusual stuff: a digital recorder and a couple of carabiners.

_Maybe she's a secret agent…_

I should have helped her; my mom would kick my ass if she knew I hadn't. Truth be told, I was a little too...distracted...by the view down the front of her hoodie—which was unzipped—and her pert, legging-clad ass wiggling in the air. She may have dropped a few dirty words, too—which didn't help my...predicament.

By the time I'd gotten a hold of myself, it was too late. She was gone. I could only watch her leave.

_What a sight it was._

I'd been kicking myself all week, and my traitorous brain had me seeing her on every corner and in every store. Hell, I even thought I'd seen her in my favorite deli near work. I'd made an idiot of myself—giving the girl one of the smirks that seems to work on most women—before I realized I'd probably been mistaken. What would Carabiner Girl be doing sitting in a deli, hiding behind a laptop?

I must be going mad.

Running a clawed hand through my never-tame hair, I try to shake all thoughts of her from my mind. There is the chance, of course, that I'll see her again—she was at Emmett's gym—but I can't pin my hopes on it. You can bet, though, that I won't miss my opportunity the next time around. Don't get me wrong—I don't want a girlfriend. More responsibility is not what I need in my life. I'm responsible for enough as it is.

Across the bar, a random bottle blonde smiles at me—aaand...that's my cue to leave.

I reach behind me to grab my wallet from my back pocket, when a tight little body in sky-high heels strides past me and straight up to the bar. Raoul has obviously spotted her, too, because he's heading her way. She looks quickly back toward the ladies room, as if she's afraid she's being followed—and I see her face.

_It's her._

Throwing the remainder of my scotch down my throat, I can't tear my eyes away. If I thought she was hot in climbing gear, she's a fucking vision in a short, one-shoulder black dress. That long, dark hair I noticed in the gym is piled on top of her head, revealing the longest, most slender neck I've ever seen.

I can't miss my chance again. Leaping to my feet and sauntering toward the bar, I watch her pink tongue sneak out of her mouth and lick the back of her left hand. I stop dead in my tracks.

_I'm a dead man._

This is it—I can't miss her again.

Getting my feet moving again, I position myself behind her, noticing how her tiny frame—even in heels—fits perfectly within my arms. I slide my hand next to the one she's resting on the bar, and I feel a buzz hum deliciously between us. I nuzzle into the hair piled on her head before shifting slightly to inhale the luscious scent just behind her right ear. I breathe her in—she smells as good as she looks.

Having the presence of mind to realize I've just bolted across a bar to smell a woman, I realize I'd better order a drink. Being the gentleman my mother raised, I remember to order her one, too. I'm aware of her breath catching before it starts again.

_Does she feel it, too?_

Like the crazy stalker I've become, I gently take her hand. I need to taste her skin, so I gently kiss the bluish veins at her wrist. Needing an excuse for accosting her, I set up to take a shot from her skin before directing her to do the same.

_So soft—if I was a poet, I'd be inspired to write a sonnet or some shit._

I can't tell what the burn coursing through me is from—whether it's from the tequila or the beautiful mystery standing before me. She shifts, and I get a view of those cocoa-colored eyes. I suck on the lime to keep myself from devouring her lips right here at the bar.

Suddenly, she's reeling away from me. I recognize that flash in her eyes—_here comes the temper._

She's yelling. She's feisty. I can't help it—I taunt her. It's like poking an animal with a stick.

_I'd like to poke her with my..._

Yeah, yeah, I know—my mother would _not_ be pleased. My father, however, would probably slap me on the back and say "nice one, Son."

I introduce myself, turning on a hint of the arrogance that's worked for me in the past. She doesn't tell me her name, just shoves me, and again—she's gone.

What the hell? She didn't even introduce herself.

_Doesn't anyone have any manners in this town anymore?_


	6. Chapter 5: Manky

**A/N: **Hello! Thank you, thank you,_ thank you_ for all the love last week! Your reviews for Chapter 4 and the Outtake made me all sorts happy. I'm so sorry I haven't replied to you all—I think the two updates in a week did me in! Please know that I appreciate every word—I really do.

Also, **YD has been nominated for Fic of the Week at The Lemonade Stand!** I'm so unbelievably flattered and SUPER excited! Do me a favor and click on my box? You have two days to vote :)

Mega thanks to my lovely betas, RaindropSoup and mcc101180. My prereaders, TwiSNFan and Louisemc86, are awesome.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a pair of grey crutches—after 10 weeks on them, I'd rather Stephenie owned those, too.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Manky** - Poorly placed protective gear, or bad rock.

Rose is right. RockFace has descended into chaos.

Alice is clinging to the Bulldozer's back. Her arms are swinging wildly and hitting him all over his head. He's waving his arms, trying to prevent her blows from connecting—he looks like he's walked into the middle of a hornet's nest. Come to think of it…the hornets may be more forgiving.

Emmett, true to form, is rolling on the floor, laughing. Truly, he's on the floor. Rose is still next to me, holding ice to my rapidly swelling ankle. Jasper is trying to get close enough to pry Alice off before she tears out any of the Bulldozer's bronze hair.

I'm in agony, and this lot is getting on my last nerve. "Okay, that is ENOUGH!" The madness stops. "Alice, not that I'm sure he doesn't deserve it, but—get down. Emmett, shut up." Alice lands gently on the floor and turns to face the Bulldozer, her little face clouded with unbridled anger.

"I _cannot _believe you!" she shrieks. The Bulldozer narrows his eyes in return.

"Believe _what_, Alice?" he asks snidely.

"Bella is my friend, and you were _so mean_ to her. You sent her flying in the lobby! Oh, and don't even get me started on that night in the bar..." She trails off, her voice threatening.

Edward maintains eye contact until Alice hits him where it obviously hurts. "That's it," she says calmly. "I'm telling Aunt Esme."

His eyes widen, and the color drops from his face. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, Edward Anthony, you bet your ass I would. And I _will_. You are going to apologize."

The Bulldozer turns to me. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

I snort. I've heard enough insincere apologies in my time to know that this is another one. I also know the offender thinks he's getting out of it by uttering two words and can walk away scot-free. To him, those words don't mean a thing.

"I don't want his apology unless it's sincere." I look him straight in the eye. "It's bullshit, so I don't accept."

Edward stares back at me. His eyes trail down to my foot, which is beginning to turn a beautiful shade of aubergine. He winces. "Let's take a look at this ankle, shall we?"

He retrieves his discarded medical bag and kneels by my feet, paying no mind to the chalk and dust covering the floor. He ever so gently places a hand on each side of my inflamed ankle. With a feather-light caress, he maneuvers my foot in different directions, not once taking his eyes from my face.

My heart starts to pound as his green eyes bore into mine. I lock onto his gaze until one position becomes too tender and I cringe.

He gently lowers my foot back to the mat and speaks directly to me. "It doesn't appear to be broken, although only an X-ray will tell me for sure. It's certainly badly sprained. I'd like to take you into the emergency room to have one of my colleagues check it over to make sure. Did you drive?"

I simply nod, as I'm unsure if I could reply without sounding like a complete idiot. This is as many words as I've ever heard him speak. It's definitely the kindest thing he's ever said to me. I'm not fooled, though. I've seen his charming side. I've been sucked into it—but not this time. Nuh-uh. Not again.

"I've had plenty of injuries. I'll be fine." I make an attempt to clamber to my feet. As soon as any amount of weight bears onto my sore foot, I gasp and quickly fall back to the floor.

Rose speaks up. "Emmett, could you—"

She's interrupted by my squeak. Without a word, the Bulldozer has swept an arm under my knees and another around my waist. He hoists me into the air and strides purposefully to the stairs. "Alice," he calls over his shoulder, "please grab my bag and her things."

"Put me down!" I say indignantly.

"Nonsense," he admonishes. "You can't walk. There's no way you'd make it down the stairs."

"You can't carry me!"

Green eyes twinkle. "Oh, but I am," he says cheekily. "Besides, you're tiny."

Letting my head fall back, I groan. "This is so undignified."

He chuckles, and I can feel the rumble through the left side of my body. He's warm, his chest is firm, and his arms are strong. He smells like spice, just like he did the night at the bar—only without the scotch. I close my eyes, letting his heady scent wrap around me.

The cold air hits me, and I realize we're outside. The Bulldozer balances me with one arm as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a key fob and presses it, two flashes of orange light briefly illuminating the night air. He opens the door to the silver SUV and carefully places me on a leather seat.

"I can probably drive—" I start to say, but he shakes his head and closes the door. I watch him take my bag—as well as his—from Alice, nod his head, and walk around to the driver's side door.

After he's settled in his seat, he hands me my bag without a word. I take it from him. He turns the ignition and pulls away from the curb. I keep staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the throb in my ankle and the pull at my eyelids. I feel like going to sleep.

As if he's able to read my thoughts, he says firmly, "Stay awake. I don't want you going into shock."

I blink a few times and stare out the window. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reach over and switch on the radio, turning the volume down low. The car fills with soft, classical music. It's not helping with "Operation: Keep Bella Awake."

Before long, he turns the car into a brightly lit drive. He pulls out his phone and steps out of the car. "Wait here," he says before closing the door.

"Well, I'm hardly going to get up and run a fucking marathon, am I?" I say into the empty car.

I remove the ice pack from my ankle—it melted long ago. Stuffing the blue squishy pouch into my bag, I tap my fingers on the door and wait.

Before too long, the Bulldozer returns with a nurse and a wheelchair. He opens the door and gently lifts me into the chair, placing my bag on my lap. The nurse wheels me away from him and into the bright lights of the emergency room.

I've only been waiting about ten minutes in the cubicle when a good-looking blond strolls in. His face is open and friendly. I can't help but offer him a smile—grimace—in return.

"Good evening, Miss Swan," he greets. "I'm Dr. Cullen. Now, what do we have here?" He gently touches my ankle. I suck in a sharp breath.

"I fell," I tell him. He looks up to meet my eyes. "My belayer let me down a little too quickly."

He smiles. "Ah, you're a rock climber?" I nod. He looks distant for a moment, then refocuses. "Right. Let's get this X-rayed then, shall we?" He helps me down from the bed and back into the wheelchair.

"Your name is Dr. Cullen, right?" I ask him over my shoulder.

"Yes," he replies with a dazzling, but slightly crooked smile—it looks familiar. Before I can say anything further, I knock my foot against the footrest of the wheelchair and the searing pain takes my words away.

I've been sitting back up in my bed for twenty minutes when Dr. Cullen walks back in holding several X-ray films. He sticks them up on the light box above my bed.

"It's definitely not broken," he says thoughtfully, "but you have a very bad sprain. You're going to need crutches for a week. If it's feeling okay after that, you can let them go. I'd also like you to apply ice—twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off—until you go to bed tonight and then as much as you can in the morning. You can look into getting a massage in a few days—I have a few contacts I can give you if you'd like. Do you have any questions?" I shake my head. I'm tired and want to go home. He hands me some painkillers and a glass of water, which I accept gratefully.

Armed with my extra limbs, a heavily bandaged ankle, and a box of painkillers that could tranquilize an elephant, I hop-clack my way to the entrance. The painkillers are kicking in. Having plenty of experience with them, I know I need to get myself home before I pass out.

I get as far as the lobby before it hits me—how the fuck am I going to get home? I fumble through my bag in an attempt to find my phone. Realizing I have no service, I start to swing my leg between my crutches when I crash into a body.

Unlike the last time I crashed into someone, I manage to splay my crutches out to brace my fall. "Fuck, I'm sorry!" I exclaim. The poor person is wearing their coffee.

Of _course_ it's him.

He looks down at his coffee-covered shirt, sighing. "Karma" is all he says. Too high to care, I giggle before continuing my swing-hop-clack motion through the doorway.

"Hey, wait," he calls, swatting at the coffee on his shirt. "Where are you going?"

Ooh, my brain feels seriously fuzzy. "The _door_," I answer breathily. "I need to go through the door so I can go home. My home comes after the door." This makes complete sense to me. Because I'm so smart, I giggle again.

I get to the entrance and look right. Then, I look left. "Where did I leave my apartment?" I wonder aloud.

A low chuckle sounds from behind me. "Come on, I'll give you a ride."

I giggle. Heh. Ride. That's what she said.

The Bulldozer snickers again.

What's he laughing at?

Somehow, I've hop-clacked to the Bulldozer's car. He's holding the door open for me. This seems ridiculous.

"Pffffffttttt!" I tell him. "It's like you're pretending to be a gentleman!"

"I'll have you know, I _am_ a gentleman." Then I think I hear him say something about it not always being in front of me, but I've already gotten into the car and am trying to wrangle my crutches, which appear to have gotten longer since I was outside the car.

Settled into his comfy, smooth, leather seats, I let my eyes close for just a minute. The car rumbles beautifully, and I feel it buzz through my entire body. It feels just like when he laughed while he carried me...but not as warm.

Here, in the car, he's so close. The air feels almost electric—it crackles and hums, and it takes everything I have not to reach over and touch him. Perhaps it's him, or maybe it's my drug-addled brain. I could probably touch the air. It feels like I can.

"What, no smart-ass words now?" I ask. My head feels like it's sinking into the beautiful black leather. I turn my head slightly so I have a clear view of his perfect profile. Well, not so perfect. His nose is just a little crooked. It should be. He can't be perfect. Nobody can be perfect.

"You have more words for me right now than you usually do," he replies.

"Ha!" I exclaim, my voice loud in the confined space. "My words are beautiful. I have lots of words. Lots of beautiful, beautiful words."

He snickers. "I believe you."

I look at my hands. "My words are beautiful. People pay me to write them down, and then other people read them. They are beautiful, beautiful words."

"What do you write about?" he asks.

"Things. I write important things. About amazing places. And stuff. I don't expect you to have ever read my words. I think you'd only read words about you."

"You don't think very highly of me, do you." In my head, his sentence doesn't finish with a question mark. It should because the words make a question. But his tone does not. I think about how it would look on my computer screen for a moment.

Right. I need to say something.

"You haven't given me reason to, no."

"I suppose I haven't," he says quietly. I almost don't hear him.

I shiver.

"Are you cold?" he asks, reaching for the heater switch.

I shake my head. "I'm just very tired."

-~[YD]~-

Why did I leave my curtains open last night?

Rolling over, I gasp. My ankle is killing me. I lift the covers to inspect it—it's very, very purple.

I look at the clock on my nightstand and see that it's almost 8 AM. I have no idea what time I went to bed last night. In fact, I can't remember going to bed. I can't remember leaving the hospital.

Huh. Maybe I called Alice after all.

At least she was nice enough to leave me some painkillers. I pop two from the packet next to my bed, sip from the glass of water she's kindly left with them, and go back to sleep.

-~[YD]~-

Opening my eyes slowly, my bedside clock tells me it's eleven-thirty. An urgent feeling prompts me to grab the crutches next to the bed and hobble my way to the bathroom. Feeling much better and with clean teeth, I totter on my crutches to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and an apple from the bowl on the counter.

Next to the fruit bowl is a note, in Alice's elegant script.

Wait—I've seen Alice's handwriting. It's anything but elegant. I pick up the paper and read.

_I hope you slept well._

_Alice gave me your address, as you fell asleep in the car._

_I let us in by using the key that was in your bag. I left the keys on the hallstand and locked the door from the inside when I left._

_You will no doubt be feeling unwell when you read this. Make sure you take your pain medication as Carlisle directed. If your pain levels are not too high, you may wish to take some ibuprofen. The prescribed meds do have some...side effects._

_Please stay off your ankle today. I have left a doctor's note in case you require it for your employer._

_Please call Rosalie at RMC Sports Medicine tomorrow to make an appointment for remedial massage. Until that time, continue to apply ice, and keep your ankle bandaged and elevated._

_Regards,_

_Edward Cullen_

I spit my water across the counter.

_The Bulldozer was in my apartment?_

I look down. I'm wearing sleep pants and a tank top—no bra.

_Holy shit! Did he see me naked?!_

I wrap my arms instinctively around myself, despite the fact that I'm the only one in the room. I do a quick look around to inspect the damage.

There is a washed glass draining by the sink, and the throw blanket that I usually have...thrown...across the couch is neatly folded and placed over one arm. The pillows have been moved, neatly plumped and placed at either end of the couch.

I'm sure I didn't leave them there.

My phone buzzes from my bedroom. I hobble in on my crutches and answer.

"Bella? How are you?"

I climb gently onto my bed, letting my leg hover for a minute before slowly lowering it onto the mattress. "I'm okay, Alice." I sigh. "My ankle hurts, but there's not permanent damage. I have to stay off it for a week or so, though."

"Oh, Bella, that's awful. Rose feels terrible, you know."

I shrug, although I know that Alice can't see me. "It wasn't her fault. Not at all. It could have happened to any of us. That reminds me, I need to call her." I turn the piece of notepaper in my hands, as if it will say something different on the back, like "Ha! April Fools!" It doesn't. "Apparently massage will help my recovery."

Alice snickers. "Oh, I'm sure it will, Bella. Speaking of massage..." she clears her throat "...my cousin mentioned he took you home last night."

Wait a second. I choke on the air in my throat. "He did what?"

"I said he mentioned he drove you home. You know, from the hospital?" She sounds like she doubts herself.

"Of course. He did. Drive me home. I think..."

"What do you mean you _think_?"

I give a little half-cough. "Well, I'm pretty sure he did."

"You're pretty sure? Wait, Bella…Were you high?" Alice's voice twists into a shriek on the last word. "Oh, my fucking God! You _were_ high!"

I lie back on my bed and look for minuscule cracks in the ceiling. "I'm not sure, Alice. The last thing I really remember is deciding to call you to come and pick me up. The medication the doctor gave me is kinda strong..."

Alice giggles. "You didn't call me. So, this means my cousin drove you home. Speaking of which, I tore him a new one this morning."

"In addition to the new one you tore him last night?" I ask dryly. I can't help but smile at the image of Alice clinging to the Bulldozer with all her might.

"Yes!" she cries. "He deserved it. I can't believe the way he's treated you. Believe me, that's not the way he was raised." I hear a muffled thud in the background, as if Alice has beaten her fist on something. "It's about time he pulled his head out of his ass. I'm fucking sick of his excuses."

This conversation appears to have suddenly taken a serious turn. "Excuses for what?"

"For being a class A asshole, for starters," she replies quickly. "Ugh, I shouldn't say anything."

My curiosity is piqued, but I can feel the painkillers wearing off. My ankle is starting to throb. I need to get some ice onto it and pop some more drugs. As much as I'd love a good gossip fest, I'd love a nap more.

"Al, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to bail. Another time?" I yawn.

"Of course, Bella. Listen, Rose and I will bring you dinner tonight. We were going to do Friday night drinks, but we'll just relocate to yours place instead. Rose can have a look at your ankle for you."

I tell her that sounds fine and hang up. A couple of painkillers and a bottle of water later, I'm curled back up under my covers, fast asleep.

-~[YD]~-

_I sit up in my sleeping bag and finger-comb my hair. Re-tying it into a ponytail high on my head, I grab my toiletry bag and unzip the tent. A quick look back at the empty tent tells me that Ty has decided to get in an early morning hike—these past trips he's taken to getting the oxygen flowing through his blood with a long hike. He says it helps with the lactic acid._

_The cool morning air wafts over my face as I emerge from the tent. I raise my arms high above my head and stretch up onto my toes. I can't help but grin as I look over at the embers of the campfire, the haphazard pile of blankets, sleeping bags and people. It seems Jessica and a friend slept under the stars last night. Diego's been watching her for weeks now. I slip my feet into my flip flops and thwick-thwack my way over to the shower block adjoining the campground._

_This is a luxury—we don't always camp near such facilities. It's only been since Jessica and Lauren have been coming with us that all of our climbing trips have been more civilized. When it was me, Ange, and the boys, we often hiked for some time and camped in open meadows or along streams._

_After a shower and brushing my teeth, I meander my way along the path back to my tent. Tossing my toiletry bag through the door flap and hanging my towel over a branch over a nearby tree, I amble over to the campfire, determined to stoke enough coals to boil some water for coffee._

_This is my absolute favorite time of any trip: the morning solo time I get with a cup of coffee and nothing but the sounds of nature around me. Although there are so many others around, snug and sleeping in their tents, I get the feeling it's just me. As each person emerges, sleepy-eyed and at their own pace, the quiet of the woods gradually dwindles. Time for talking comes later; now, this is time just for me._

_Careful not to disturb the two bundled in blankets on the other side of the fire, I grab some kindling from the pile and add it to the campfire, stoking it with one of the longer sticks. I hear a zipper's hollow slide from a tent behind me and turn to greet my fellow morning mate._

"_Fuck me, I need coffee this morning. I fucking hate sleeping on the ground. Are you stoking the fire, Bella?"_

_Looking over my shoulder, I see Jessica's sleep-ruffled, blonde head poke through the tent opening._

I bolt upright in my bed, the sheets wrapped around my body like a mummy. My ankle still hurts, but the throb appears to be easing to a dull ache.

Shaking the fog of the so-real-it-happened dream from my brain and deciding I feel significantly better than I did earlier today, I unwind myself from my cocoon. Noticing the time and remembering that Alice and Rose will be here soon, I decide I'd better shower—I'm hardly in a state to be receiving company.

I become aware of the flaws in my plan as soon as I reach the bathroom. I'm likely to fall and seriously hurt myself if I attempt to bear any weight on my foot, so a shower is out of the question. It hits me that I've been living here for a few months now, and I have yet to break in my bathtub. I can probably maneuver myself into the tub, but I'll need to be careful that I don't slip.

I adjust the temperature, pour in a generous amount of bubble bath, and leave the water running while I clumsily make my way to the front door. I unlock it so that the girls can let themselves right in when they arrive—dashing to the door, on crutches, and dripping water is more of a risk than I'm willing to take.

Tying my hair into a messy top-knot and stripping down, I slide my body carefully into the hot, sudsy water. I close my eyes and hum—it's been such a long time since I had a decent soak in the tub.

I mentally run through the next few weeks in my head. I'm definitely laid up for the next week, but I'm determined to do what I need to so I can be fully recovered by the time our trip rolls around in two weeks. Smiling to myself, I think about how much fun it's going to be. I'll be able to hang out with my new friends and reconnect with my old high school ones, all in the beautiful surrounds of the Olympic National Park. To add to it, I'll be doing it differently from how I'm used to—a luxury cabin in the woods is _not_ my usual style. I remember the images that Alice showed me. The Jacuzzi is a sure selling point.

Although I'll be there with two other couples, I'm looking forward to a few quiet walks by myself if I get the time. I'm sure the couples won't mind. Besides, solo time is my favorite.

I stay in the bath until my fingers start to wrinkle and I can see more water on the surface of the water than bubbles. I hear the creak of the front door and footsteps in the entry hall. Ah, Alice and Rose must have arrived.

"I'll be out in just a minute!" I call. I draw my knees up and place my weight on both feet, bracing myself with my hands on the edge of the tub. As I push myself up, it hits me that this was a fairly stupid idea. At the same time I have this cracking realization, my good foot slips on the bubble-slick surface of the tub, and I fall hard on my ass—water sloshing over the sides of the tub. Thankfully, I kept my bad foot out of the way so I've done no further damage to it.

"_Fuck!"_ I cry out. "Son of a _bitch!" _The footsteps in the hall quicken, and the bathroom door is flung open.

"Fuck, are you okay?"

"Get out!_" _I scream at the wide-eyed, stunned face of the Bulldozer, who gapes at me from the bathroom doorway. He suddenly diverts his eyes to the ceiling—but it's too late. I know he got a good look. "I said, _GET OUT!"_

"Of course...right...fuck...I'm sorry..." he stammers, abruptly shutting the door. His voice is muffled through the wood. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see if you were okay."

My face has reddened so much that it could rival a West Coast sunset. "What are you even doing here?" I shriek. "How did you get in?"

"The door was unlocked," the muted baritone of the Bulldozer says through the closed door.

I rest my forehead on my bent knees. My tailbone hurts. I don't think I fell far enough to do any serious damage, but it still hurts.

"Do you always let yourself into other people's apartments?" I call into my knees.

"Do you always leave your door unlocked?" He sounds angry. "Any psycho could walk in!"

I wave my arm dramatically at the closed door, although I know he can't see me. "Exhibit: A!"

"Seriously, why was your door unlocked? It's not safe."

"You're not fucking kidding me!" I holler back. I'm starting to shiver—the water is chilly. "I think I hurt myself...again." Goosebumps are starting to appear on my arms, my teeth are starting to chatter, and I'm pretty sure my lips are blue. Not to mention the...other...evidence my body's reaction to the dropping temperature of the water.

"How am I going to get out?" I wonder aloud.

"I could help?" the disembodied voice through the door offers.

I snort. "I bet you think you could!" I think back to the night in the bar, when his lips touched my skin. Now my body's not only reacting to the cold.

"Seriously, I can be professional. I am a doctor, you know." He snickers.

I ponder his proposal. Nope. No way. "Alice will be here soon."

"Alice called me," he replies. "She'll be late. She's picking up Rosalie, and Rose is running behind schedule at the clinic. She asked me to help, and I was on my way home from work, so..."

I think about it. "Really, I can wait."

"I can hear you shivering. Let me help. You'll catch your death from the cold."

I consider another attempt at hoisting myself out of the bath. This could be fraught with danger.

"You'll promise not to look?"

"I'll promise I'll try not to look."

"Fuck off, then."

He chuckles. "Okay, fine. I won't look."

I take in the sorry state of my bathroom and look down at the sorry state of me. "Fine. Hold on a sec."

I grab my towel from the rack by the bath and hold it up as a barrier between the door and me. "Okay. You can come in."

The door slowly opens, and the Bulldozer's bronze head peeks slowly around the door. As promised, his green eyes are looking straight at the ceiling. He steps into the slightly steamy bathroom with his arms out in front of him in an impersonation of a cartoon zombie.

He waves his arms around until his hands touch on the towel. Keeping his gaze averted, he takes the towel, holding it out. I swiftly, but very carefully, push myself onto my feet and hold onto the wall to keep myself steady. He ever so gently wraps the towel around my body—I can feel the heat of his hands through the fabric.

"Okay, um...you can look now. I'm covered."

The Bulldozer turns his head to face me, his eyes blazing deep into mine. I grip the towel as tightly as I can with one hand, my other palm pressed flat against the tiles.

His voice is tight. "Would, um…you like some help...getting out of the tub?"

I nod mutely. As if I were made of glass, he places his hands on my waist, easily lifting me up, out, and over the edge of the bath before my feet settle gently on the bath mat. I adjust my weight on to my good foot.

I clear my throat, fisting the towel in my hands. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says softly, not taking his eyes from mine or his hands from my waist.

Before either of us can say anything else, I hear the front door bang open, and Alice and Rosalie's voices swim through my apartment. "Bellaaaaa..." Alice sing-songs. "Are you awa-aake?" Kitchen sounds punctuate her singing.

Edward's eyes widen, and I feel my face flush. Before he can take a step back, Rosalie speaks from behind him.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

.

.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are better than the Dozer helping you out of the bath. Tell me what you think? Alerts are awesome, but words are better ;)

**Some Recs—leave them a review, and tell them I sent you!**

**The Going for the Gold anon contest - **FFnet username **goingforthegoldcontest**: I pimped this the other week, but really—go read them **and vote!** There are five entries, so go and check them out :) Did I mention it's anonymous? *nods* Well, it is. *nods again*

**I remain, Yours** by **Momatu: **AU/Supernatural isn't usually my thing, but this one is owning me right now. It's third person, so you get all sortsa perspectives. Seriously, I drop everything for updates—it's surprised even me. True romance—it's just lovely. And Edward is super dreamy.

**Move it Like You Want **by **Thimbles:** A steamy little one shot. Edward sings, Bella plays bass. I seriously needed a cold shower.


	7. Chapter 6: Panic Bear

**A/N: **Oh wow, what a week. This was just supposed to be a bit of silliness for my own amusement—you guys blow me away. Big thanks to SueBee0619 for nominating this in TLS, and hugs to everyone that voted :) Welcome, new readers!

TwiSNFan and Louisemc86 preread it, and RaindropSoup and mcc101180 fixed it. I love the four of them.

Stephenie owns Twilight. I own a folder of Rob pics from his Australian promo! He's in my country! Yay! (Sadly I'm not in Sydney, though)

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Panic Bear** - A panicking novice climber clinging to handholds while searching desperately for a foothold.

I suppose, if you'd just walked in, our position might appear to be a little...compromising. I'm wearing nothing but a towel, and Edward's hands are resting on my waist. I'm red-faced, and my blush has decided not to stop at my chin. So, yes—I can see how you'd get the wrong idea.

"Thank you," I say in an attempt to break the tension. The Bulldozer drops his hands, gives a curt nod, and, pushing past Rose, flees from the bathroom.

Rosalie grins at me. "Bye, Edward," she calls over her shoulder, not taking her eyes from my face. I look down to examine the bath mat under my feet.

I close my eyes when I hear Alice's voice. "Hi, Edward! Oh, bye, Edward." The front door closes, then I count. 3...2...

"Bella Swan, care to tell me why my cousin just bolted from your apartment like his ass was on fire?"

_The bath mat is very interesting. It has a few threads loose. Maybe I should buy a new one..._

"You should have been in here a few minute ago, Al, Rosalie pipes up.

_Perhaps I should get matching towels..._

"In here? But, Bella's not even dress...oh! OH!"

_While I'm at it, one of those fluffy robes would be nice, too. _

"Uh huh." Rosalie nods, still looking extremely smug.

I clear my throat. This is going to sound lame, but it's the truth. "It's not what you think..."

Rosalie waves me off with a knowing look. "You get dressed. We'll just get dinner organized." Her smirk grows, and her eyes twinkle with mirth. "And then…I think we have lots to catch up on." She grabs Alice's hand—I've never seen Alice speechless before—and drags her in the direction of the kitchen.

I hobble over—using the bathroom counter for support—and close the door behind them, resting my forehead against the wood. Then I bang it. Three times.

After dressing in comfy sweats and moving at snail's pace out to the living room, I see Rose and Alice sitting on the floor by the coffee table. They're digging through a number of Thai takeaway containers—the contents smell absolutely delicious. My stomach grumbles in anticipation.

"Oh, Bella," Alice says sympathetically, taking in the pathetic sight of my messy hair and my crutches. She rushes over to grab my hands, but I shake my head. If she grabs my hands now, I'll hit the carpet.

"I'm okay, Alice," I assure her. "It doesn't hurt nearly much as it did as this morning."

"I really am sorry, Bella. I should have been quicker on the rope, " Rose says quietly. Meek isn't a good look on Rose—it doesn't suit her at all.

I wave my hand—while still holding my crutches. The stick sails through the air in an arc, nearly taking out the lamp by the couch. I drop it back to the ground quickly. "Really, Rose, I'm fine."

"Well, let me have a look at least," she says, patting the couch. I hobble over and sit, leaning back against one of the arms and sitting lengthways along the couch. Rose quickly retrieves a pillow and props my foot up on it. While she sets to unwrapping my bandage, Alice starts chatting.

"We weren't sure what you preferred, so we got a bunch of stuff." As she rattles off the names of various dishes, I stop her when she gets to Pad Thai and wriggle my fingers, indicating that she should hand over the box if she values her life. She passes it and a fork without question.

"Y'know," Rose starts, carefully setting the bandage aside, "Emmett blames himself for this." She motions at my purplish foot.

"What? Why? I slipped—it's no big deal."

Rose gently takes my foot into her hands again and commences wrapping. I wince slightly but suck it up because I know it's for the best. "The hold you grabbed was loose. It spun, right on its bolt. Apparently Emmett had a school group in earlier yesterday, and they were swinging off the holds. He thinks he should have double checked the route."

I roll my eyes. This is ridiculous. "Every single hold on the wall? It was an accident. Shit happens. I don't care, seriously." Even in an indoor gym, I am fully aware of the risks of climbing—my hands alone are proof of that fact.

"He still thinks he could have prevented it."

I need to put a stop to this. There's no point in anyone placing the blame onto themself. I mean, it's a sprained ankle—it's not the end of the world. I gesture to Rose's purse.

"Give me your phone."

"What for?"

"Just give it to me."

Rose huffs but plucks her phone from her bag and hands it over. I quickly scroll through the contacts until I find Em's number. It rings three times before he answers.

"Hot lips! What a day. God, have I missed your—"

I interrupt before he can say any more. "Ugh, Emmett, no. It's Bella."

"Chalky! How are you? Are you okay? I'm so sorry. I've got a new kid in the gym for the afternoon shifts—lazy fucker obviously didn't do his job properly. I should fire his ass..."

"Em, don't worry about it," I assure him. "It's totally fine. I mean, my ankle's a wicked shade of purple right now, but give it a week or so and I'll be back to normal."

"I'm really glad," he replies. "I know Rosie thinks it's her fault, but—"

"We've already talked about it. She's strapping me up as we speak."

"Strapping you?" he asks, his voice unnaturally high. "Chalky, that's hot!"

"Ugh, _Emmett_!" I cry. "Not that kind of strapping!" Rose motions for me to give her the phone.

"Emmett McCarty, you behave yourself...No...You can forget that too, after what you said to her last night. You know he never...Exactly...I won't do that thing again if you continue to make up stories...Yes...Yes…Okay…Bye." She tosses the phone back into the bag at her feet.

I laugh at Rosalie's no-nonsense approach to dealing with her husband. Alice speaks. "If that's what I think that was about..."

Rose nods at her and resumes the wrapping rhythm on my ankle. "It was." She looks at me. "For the record, Edward made no mention of your boobs. That was all my husband."

I blanch. "Boobs? Huh? Who said what?"

Rose takes a roll of tape from the bag at her feet, holding the strapping in place with her other hand. She tears a small piece off, securing the end the Ace bandage. "That night—the one we met you? Edward came in late, after you'd left. Do you have an ice pack?"

"It should be in the freezer," I mumble around a mouthful of Pad Thai.

Rose looks at Alice, who puts down her own container before getting up and skipping to the kitchen. Still strapping, Rosalie continues. "So, he said he saw a girl fall over in the lobby."

I interrupt—and even I can hear the edge in my voice. "Did he happen to mention that he was the one who _pushed_ her over?"

Rose gives a wry smile. "No, he left that part out. When he came up to meet us, he was laughing. Emmett asked if the chick had 'a great rack.'" She makes air quotes with one hand as she takes the ice pack from Alice with the other.

Placing the ice pack on my ankle, over the bandage, Rose continues. "My husband isn't known for his diplomacy. Edward's different. He truly didn't say anything."

I twist my lip as I think of the Bulldozer and his _tact_. "You obviously didn't hear about the night in the bar."

Alice interjects. "I filled her in on that on the way here. I don't get it, B. He really wasn't raised that way."

"Well, I don't care," I say, putting down my almost-empty container. I hadn't realized how hungry I was—thinking about it, I haven't really eaten properly since lunch yesterday. "He didn't apologize. For any of it."

Rose looks at me for a moment then nods firmly as she picks up a spring roll. "Good for you, Bella," she says, waving the appetizer at me. "Make the bastard work for it."

I shake my head. "I'm not going to make him work for anything." No way. That guy's trouble. "After the clusterfuckery of _every single encounter_ I've had with him, it's more than I want to deal with right now. I honestly will be happy to never see him again."

Rose smiles and changes the subject. Alice's eyes widen before she very industriously digs into her noodles. She grins at me with her mouth full. She looks like a slightly panicked chipmunk.

Alice doesn't say too much for the rest of the evening. She sits on the floor, quietly painting her toenails before offering to do mine and Rose's. When I ask her a question, she shushes me, claiming she needs quiet to concentrate on her "masterpiece."

I've never heard her say so little.

After another two hours of chatting with Rose—and being a little confused by Alice's silence—I bid the girls goodnight. Rose tells me to come in to her clinic on Sunday afternoon so she can massage my ankle. I try to tell her not to worry, but she insists. I agree, and she gives me a quick hug before she goes.

Before bed I pop some painkillers and fall into a dreamless sleep.

-~[YD]~-

Sunday morning, I roll over, waiting for the thudding pound to radiate from my ankle, but I feel...nothing. I gingerly point and flex my toes, waiting for the tearing agony to scream through my leg. I'm glad when it doesn't happen.

I'm so excited that I could leap out of bed and dance. Then I remember what Rose told me, and I ever so carefully get out of bed using my crutches before clacking my way to the bathroom.

I was an extra good girl yesterday—sitting with my laptop on the couch and my foot propped up on pillows. I didn't walk unnecessarily; I kept it elevated, iced it, and stayed away from the bottle of red that's been staring at me from the kitchen counter. I didn't clean my apartment—although it needed it—and I didn't go for a run...like I _really _wanted to.

I even braved the shower, which wasn't so bad—I was able to brace myself well enough to get really clean. Looking back, I possibly should have done that the other night—it would have been quicker, and I would have already been out of the shower when there was a knock at the door. I also wouldn't have had my door unlocked.

Yeah, a day cooped up at home left me _way_ too much time for thinking.

Being unable to go out for a Sunday morning coffee means it's either boredom or lack of caffeine that's going to kill me today. Knowing Alice is coming to get me, I dress as quickly as I can. By lunchtime, I'm desperate. I make myself a pot of tea—it will have to do until I can get some real caffeine.

A light rap at the door has me hobbling in that direction using only one of my crutches. I've found it easier to get around my apartment on just one. I'm also less likely to knock over and break stuff if I only have one weapon.

"Hi, Bella!" Alice's cheerful voice fills the hall as I open the door. With a grin, she hands me a cup, which I accept with a moan.

"Alice, if things don't work out with Jasper, I'll totally turn for you."

She winks. "Awww, that's sweet—but if you ever seriously consider playing for the other team, let me at least find you a date first. I fear by the time that happens, we'll have reached a point of no return."

She bustles into my apartment and grabs my purse from the hallstand. I carefully make my way to the living room where I retrieve my phone from the coffee table, snatch up my other aluminium death stick of doom, and turn to head toward the door.

Alice, sensing I'm going to drop everything, gently takes my coffee from me. When I let out a small whine, she assures me she'll give it back when we get to the car.

Getting down the stairs—while a little tricky—is not impossible. I'm only on the second floor, so one flight is bearable. Safely buckled up in Alice's Porsche—crammed in with my coffee and my other two legs—we pull up in front of the building that houses RockFace and RMC Sports Massage before I can say, "Holy shit! Slow down, Alice, or you'll kill us both!"

Alice dances gracefully around the car to help me out. Just as she opens the door, Emmett comes barging out of the warehouse.

"Chalky? You need a hand? Here, let me help."

He makes an attempt to grab me around the waist, but I stop him. I sense he's going to hoist me over his shoulder and haul me into the building, caveman style. Handing him my cooling coffee, I swing-clack into the building and into the door to Rose's clinic. Emmett hands me back my coffee, and I'm greeted by the warm, fresh smell of pine and eucalyptus coming from an oil burner on a side table. Rose is seated behind a large, dark-wood desk. She looks up with a smile as I enter the room.

The reception area of RMC Sports Massage is completely unlike RockFace. It's tastefully decorated in warm neutrals, greens, and browns. A cream sofa rests against one wall, flanked by two armchairs covered in soft-looking, leaf-green fabric. Adorning the walls are large black and white photographs of river scenes, high, rocky cliffs, and one much smaller photograph of the Seattle skyline.

A coffee table sits nestled amongst the chairs, piled with magazines. Among them, I recognize the cover of the _Outdoors_ edition that I had an article featured in a few months back.

The space is cozy. It's small, but it doesn't feel crowded. Being in here, you'd have no idea that the noise and lofty open spaces of RockFace are right through the door. If I'm not mistaken, the bouldering cave is directly above us.

"Rose, wow. It's so nice in here," I compliment.

She smiles. "Thanks, Bella. Although we're predominantly about sports massage, I really want people to be able to come in and forget about the outside world. This is a place of relaxation and healing."

It shows, and I tell her. Rose's glow is so different here—I see glimpses of the girl who sat on my couch eating Thai food and hints of the blonde bombshell from the bar. She's warm yet professional. The confidence she shows in everything she does oozes from her every pore.

She directs me to a smaller, low-lit room set up with a massage table and a small arm chair. She asks me to strip down to my underwear and wrap myself in the robe that's hanging on the coatrack by the door. Doing as she asks, I hop over to the table and settle myself.

Rose asks if I'd like some low music, which I tell her is fine. She removes the bandage on my ankle and sets to work, gently massaging scented lotion into my foot, ankle, and calf.

As she works, she chats. We talk about inconsequential stuff and eventually come around to what brought me to Seattle. I tell her about my solo treks across the countryside and that I'd wanted to settle in one place.

I can't bring myself to speak of the humiliating, Tyler-shaped skeleton that sits in my closet.

When she's done, my ankle feels so much looser. Rose gives me stretches to do, and she leaves the room so I can get dressed.

When I wander back out to her reception area, she waves me off when I reach for my wallet. "Really, Bella. Don't worry about it." ` 1

Looking around, I notice the reception is still empty. "Am I your last client?"

Rose smiles. "No, sweetie, I don't open on Sundays. I came in for you today.."

I'm aghast. "So, you come in on your day off and won't let me pay?"

Shutting down the computer, she looks at me. "Of course. That's what friends are for, right?"

Whether it's because I'm so relaxed from the massage, relief that my ankle is feeling better, or plain old PMS, I respond the only way that makes sense right now. I burst into tears.

Rose's face drops. "Bella?"

I wipe at my face, willing the tears to stop falling. "I'm okay, Rose. It's just that...well..."

Looking at her face etched with concern, I know what it is. None of my new friends would ever turn their back on me or betray me. I'm sure of it.

I hug her, and she hugs me back just as tightly. "Thanks, Rose. Really."

"Anytime," she replies, and I hear the smile in her voice. I sense she knows it's for more than the massage.

The door handle to the outside world turns, and Emmett's head pokes through the opening.

"Can I join in? You know the ladies love an Emmett McCarty sandwich!"

Rose steps out of my grasp and throws the nearest thing to her—a foam stress-ball from the desk—directly at his head. He dodges it easily.

I guess we can all be happy it wasn't a stapler.

He grins, his dimples standing out like punctuation points of happy on his cheeks. "I was going to see if you girls wanted to come upstairs. Alice called Jas, and we were going to have a boulder and order pizza."

I wipe the tears from my cheeks. "That sounds great, Em." I grab my crutches, and Rose turns off the lights in the clinic. Grabbing the laundry bag of massage lotion-covered towels, she follows Emmett and me out the door, locking it behind her.

Emmett insists on carrying me up the stairs. He tells me he knows what Rosalie's massages are like and that I probably feel all sleepy now.

I don't want to know any more about the massages Rose gives him.

He sets me down on one of the crash mats in the bouldering cave, and I watch the others clamber the walls for a while. Pizza is delivered, and the five of us sit around and chat.

"So," says Jasper, nudging my arm. "Two weeks, huh? I can't wait."

I nod as I finish a bite of mushroom pizza. "Yes, two weeks. I should be back to my normal self by then. I can't wait to get my hands on real rock again. It's been...well...months."

"I know what you mean, Chalky!" Emmett enthuses, his mouth full of pizza. Rose slaps him on the arm and tells him to finish his mouthful. He does before he speaks. "So, tell us about this guide you've found us."

I can't help but grin when I think of Jacob and his friends. "You'll love them—they're great guys. I used to hang out with them when I was in high school. We kinda lost touch after I left Forks, though."

I share my experiences of hanging out with the guys. Alice cringes when I show the silvery scar on the palm of my hand, and Jasper and Emmett laugh when I tell them about how I'd clung for dear life to the rope as I was lowered from my first top-rope climb. The problem had been that I'd snatched at the wrong rope, giving myself a nasty rope burn. I'd been very proud of myself for not crying in front of Jake and the others when it happened, but as soon as I'd tried to wash my hair that night, a few tears had gone down the drain with my shampoo suds.

The gym has all but cleared out, and I'm starting to feel a little on the sleepy side. As I stifle a yawn, Alice offers to drive me home. I nod and begin to gather my things.

Alice carries my bag for me as I clamber to my feet, and Emmett lifts me into his arms before I can protest. Realizing that resistance is futile, I let myself be carried down the stairs. As we reach the door, Emmett sets me down onto my two feet and crutches.

I wave to the others—who have made their way down to the ground floor with the empty pizza boxes—and follow Alice out thedoor and into the car. As I'm climbing into her low, low car, Alice calls out.

"Edward, hi!" She waves frantically—as only Alice can—while the Bulldozer strides over.

Why, oh, _why_ does he have to be so good-looking?

"Alice," he greets her. He looks down at me. I feel like I'm sitting on the ground—which I almost am. And he's so tall...

"Hello again, Bella," he says to me. I'm grateful for the dim light of the evening, because my face flushes. I haven't heard him say my name before, and I wish he'd say it again…and again.

I truly don't want to be attracted to him, but he makes it so damn hard.

"Hello," I reply, trying to hide the voice of my inner monologue.

The silence hangs in the air for a moment. Alice looks at me knowingly and walks around to her side of the car.

"So, how are you feeling?" Edward asks softly.

I look down at my hands. "Much better," I tell him. "I had a massage earlier. Um, Rosalie...like you suggested."

He rubs his hand on the back of his neck. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better," he says. He ducks down to my level, and his face is so, so close. If I just lean forward...

_Swan! Snap out of it!_

At my level, he leans through the open door. "I'll see you during the week, Alice?"

He's _so close_. My breath catches in my throat.

Alice is grinning so wide that I fear her little face will crack. I have a visual of the top half of her head detaching and bobbing about independently of the bottom half as she speaks. Wasn't there a cartoon or something that had characters like that? I shake my head slightly to get rid of the image. I must be crazy.

"Sure will! Bye, Edward."

He gently closes the door, maintaining eye contact with me. I can't, for the life of me, bring myself to look away.

When I glance over my shoulder and out Alice's rear window, I see the Bulldozer standing on the pavement, hands deep in his pockets, watching us drive away.

-~[YD]~-

My week as a cripple—Emmett's words—flies by. I keep in contact with my team at the _Times_ via teleconference and have a few individual chats with Tanya via Skype. She doesn't seem quite as rattled as she was last week, a fact for which I am glad. She's definitely not quite in the power mode that she was on my first day, but she's not the confidence-lacking woman I found in her office last week. I haven't mentioned anything but wonder about the "assholes" she warned me against.

I spend a bit of time at the gym, people-watching and getting massages from Rosalie. It's funny—it seems her dumping me on the ground was just what we needed to bring us together. We talk easily—she's not the chatterbox that Alice is—and both seem to appreciate a little "quiet time." Every lull in conversation doesn't need to be filled, and it's refreshing.

Rose is not a gossip, which serves her profession well. She mentions that her work tends to make people open up. I suppose it's something to do with the physical contact—that normal no-touching barrier that society presses is broken, and people feel safe. I think Rose sells herself short—while she comes across as aloof and unwilling to share lots of information about herself or anyone else, she's a great listener.

When she does talk of our friends, she's loyal to a fault—I'm glad she's in my corner.

By Saturday, I'm feeling much better. My ankle seems much stronger, and I've ditched the crutches. I enjoy my re-found freedom by running errands. I drop my crutches back at the hospital—waving them a not-so-fond goodbye in the process—and settle in with my laptop for a late lunch at the coffee shop near my house.

Okay, so it _might_ be the same one I saw the Bulldozer at many weeks ago.

I've started coming back here. While initially I'd avoided it, some deep-seated, morbidly curious part of me wants to run into him again. But then I think about it some more, and I don't.

I'm confused. My own mood swings are giving me whiplash.

Several coffees and a tuna melt later, I'm packed up and heading for home. As I go to pull the door of the cafe, it swings before me. I jump back before the door hits me in the face. The last thing I need after only just recovering is _another_ injury.

I mutter an "excuse me" without making eye contact and hurry out into the street.

"No problem," is the deep-voiced reply.

My head snaps up to see the smirking face of the Bulldozer. My eyes widen before I can get a grip on myself. I truly hope he can't read minds—mine's a mess.

"Oh, um...hi," I ever so eloquently respond.

He's standing just inside the doorway of the cafe, and I'm standing just outside. I shift my laptop bag to my other shoulder.

"How's the ankle?" he asks, gesturing toward my feet.

"It's fine."

"Well, that's good."

"Yeah."

We both speak at once. "Look, I have to..."

"I'm meeting someone, so I'd better..."

I nod. He does the same.

Of course he is. Meeting someone.

I turn and walk quickly in the direction of my apartment.

_Not that I care..._

-~[YD]~-

"It's so great to have you back in the office, Bella. I've really missed seeing you around."

I smile at Tanya as we walk into the conference room together. "I'm happy to be back." It's true. Not that I'm in the office that much, but I really like my team. Well, most of them—James still gives me the creeps.

She takes her seat at the head of the table, and I sit to her right, facing the door. Over the next few minutes, the other guys wander in. It's just after Tanya greets us all that James saunters in, late as usual. He takes the long way around the table and sits next to me, which means brushing by Tanya on the way past. I see her shudder slightly as he walks behind her.

Our team leader clears her throat. "So, any issues from this week?"

We go around the table, sharing what we're working on and tossing ideas around. When it's my turn, I excitedly tell them a little more about this weekend's upcoming trip.

I've been in contact with Jake quite regularly. I'm really looking forward to the trip as a whole, but it will be so much better having him and the guys there. I might even get the time to drop in at my dad's if we finish up early on Sunday.

Most of the details have been finalized. Thanks to Alice booking the cabin early, we've got somewhere great to stay. Jake tells me that this weekend is going to be particularly busy, as it's anticipated to be one of the few good weather weekends remaining for the season. The nature of activities will change significantly after that, with people wanting to go ice climbing instead. He leaves those trips to Embry. I don't blame him—I never got into ice climbing. I much prefer the warmer weather.

The team is excited for me. Eric and Alec comment that they'll be interested to see how it goes—Alec and his kids have started climbing at Emmett's gym, and his kids are bugging him to try outdoors.

James, as per our previous meetings, says very little.

Tanya wraps up, and everybody gathers up notepads, tablets, and cell phones. I take a little more time collecting my things, and when I do, I notice James standing between the doorway and me.

I hurry toward the door, sidestepping James on my way past. He matches my step, effectively blocking my exit.

"So, a little weekend away, Bella?" he asks, his arm stretched and propped on the doorframe.

"Yes," I respond. "Like I said in the meeting, I'm going away for the article on group getaways this weekend."

He steps closer to me. I step back, my legs hitting the conference table. James cocks his head to the side.

"Do you have room for one more?" he asks, reaching out with his hand and running his fingertips down my arm.

I freeze. I can talk my way out of pretty much any situation, but here—in this room—I'm cornered. I shake my head. "No."

He smirks. "Come on, Bella. Don't be like that." He reaches for my hand, which I snatch back and grip my notebook. "I just thought I could join you on your little getaway."

"Bella's trip has already been approved, James. The numbers are set." Tanya's cold voice comes from the doorway. She stands with her arms folded and her hard gaze locked on James. Keeping her eyes on him, she addresses me. "Thanks, Bella. You're free to work from home for the rest of today. I'll see you later in the week."

Getting the impression I've been dismissed, I step around James and bolt for the doorway, squeezing by Tanya as I pass. By the time I reach my desk, I'm trembling.

Brushing off Alec's concerned questioning, I stuff my things into my bag and head for the elevator. Tapping my foot impatiently as I wait at the shiny doors, Facebook Gianna speaks to me.

"He's a bit creepy, huh?"

I turn to her, confused. How could she possibly know about the conference room? Knowing better than to badmouth a colleague, I don't answer her comment.

"See you later, Gianna."

-~[YD]~-

Throwing my bag onto the bed of my truck, I clamber into the cabin excitedly. This week has crawled by despite the fact that I've been busier than normal. I turn the ignition in my truck—which fires up on the third attempt—and make my way the few blocks to RockFace. We're all meeting up there and driving in convoy to the lodge for the weekend, having a late dinner when we arrive.

I'm taking my Chevy while Alice and Jasper go with the others in Emmett's Jeep. We could have all ridden together, but I've arranged to drop in at my dad's on the way home.

For the next three hours, it's just my trusty truck, my tunes, and me.

Dancing in my seat with the stereo turned up, I pull up in front of the gym at a quarter past five. My truck gives a longer, more-pathetic-than-normal splutter before the engine dies out.

_Huh. Weird._

As I bounce cheerfully through the door of the gym, the first thing I notice is Emmett's large presence behind the counter. He's on the phone.

"Well, just get here as soon as you can...I'll let Chalky know. Bye, dude." He looks up. "Hey! I was just talking about you!"

"I heard," I say as I lean on my elbows on the counter. I grab a copy of _Outdoors_ from the stand on the counter and thumb through the pages. "What's up?"

"That was Jasper," he says, taking the magazine back. I frown. "They're going to be late. There's been some problem with one of the kids he works with, but he and Alice will be here as soon as they can. I have to wait for Rosie, too. She's running behind with her clients."

I nod, but I'm a little disappointed. I'm excited and really want to get on the road. "Oh, that's cool. Mind if I hang out?"

Before Emmett can respond, my phone rings. Seeing Alice's name pop up, I put one finger up, silently telling him to hold that thought. "Hi, Alice."

"Bella, I'm glad I caught you. Have you left home yet?"

"Yes," I reply, "I've just arrived at the gym. Emmett just got off the phone with Jasper—you guys are going to be late?"

"We are," she says. I can hear cars in the background. "Jas is still at work and I'm on my way home now."

I'm semi-conscious of the bell ringing on the door and step to the end of the counter to let Emmett serve them. I look up into the expanse of the gym.

"That's okay, Al. I'll hang around here until you're ready to go."

"That's the thing," Alice says warily. "I told the owners of the cabin we'd pick up the key by nine-thirty. We need someone to get it, but I'm not comfortable with you driving by yourself—"

"It's cool, Al. I can go now and meet you guys up there. I've done the drive before—I'll be fine."

"Chalky?" Emmett calls from over my shoulder. I raise a finger, indicating I'll be with him in a minute. I distractedly watch a young kid halfway up a wall across the gym as I continue to talk to Alice.

Alice clears her throat. "I have a better idea," she starts. "You and Edward can drive there now, pick up the keys, and we'll meet you at the cabin later. He was going to take his own car, anyway."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"I said—"

"I heard you, Alice," I tell her calmly. "At least, I think I did. Did you say..."

"Chalky!"

I turn to face Emmett, ready to tell him to _wait a fucking minute, already_. There, leaning casual-cool on the counter, swinging his keys around one long finger...

"You've _got_ to be kidding."

The Bulldozer smirks. "Road trip?"

.

.

* * *

**A/N: **Ahhh, the moment we've all been waiting for! Many of you picked up on what Tanya said a few chapters ago about the six of them going. Poor Bella doesn't always see what's directly in front of her—I guess sometimes we only hear what we expect to hear. Go easy on her, huh? She's had a big few weeks!

I've been thinking lots lately about what inspires stories. I know music can be a big one—it is for me. Characters or stories can be summed up in one song. I've had "Sorry" by Madonna in my head...for obvious reasons ;) What song reminds you of the Bulldozer?

**Some Recs:**

Read, review and tell 'em I sent you!

**Departures** by **TheFicChick - **A OS that I'm seriously hoping will continue. I have no words. It's being recommended all over, so don't miss out—read and review so she'll hopefully write more! ;)

**Fatherhood, Formula, and Other F Words** by **anhanninen**—Recently complete and just lovely. I love it when an a**hole Edward redeems himself!

**Nobody's Little Girl** by **HelloElla**—A WIP that'll likely tear your heart out—but you'll love every minute.


	8. Chapter 7: Runout

**A/N: **My prereaders are TwiSNfan and Louisemc86. My betas are RaindropSoup and mcc101180. They're awesome, and so are you guys. Really. Lots more to say, but I'll let you read first. East Coast girls—please stay safe.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own Chalky and the Bulldozer.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**Runout - **An uncomfortably long and often dangerous distance between two points of protection.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, _no, _NO.

This can't be happening.

"Alice? Something to tell me?" I remark, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. The Bulldozer doesn't take his eyes from mine.

"Yeah…Bella?" My friend sounds nervous. "I've been meaning to tell you...Edward's coming, too."

He's dressed casually in jeans and a black t-shirt. He crosses one Nike-clad foot over the other, his keys still swinging around one of his fingers. He's seemingly waiting for me to finish my conversation.

"Fine," I tell her through gritted teeth. I give a small smile that's more like a grimace to Edward and Emmett before turning away from them and hissing into the phone. "You've got some explaining to do when I see you."

"I know, I know. It'll be okay, I promise," Alice says quickly. "I'll see you at the cabin, B."

I press end and return my phone to my bag. "So," I begin, "it appears you're coming with us."

The Bulldozer smirks. If there was a smirking contest, he'd win for sure. "I am."

I close my eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. "You can follow me. I'll see you there, Emmett."

I walk past the guys and hear the Bulldozer say goodbye to Em. As I march to my truck, I give myself a pep talk.

Pro: it's only two nights. I still have the car trip to myself, so I've got three hours to figure this out.

Con: he's rude. He still hasn't apologized.

I open the door to my truck—it creaks loudly.

Pro: he's good-looking.

Con: he's seen me naked. I think.

I put the key into the ignition and turn the engine over.

Pro: Alice and Rose will be there to run interference. I probably won't even have to talk to him.

Con: Emmett will be there. He has plenty of ammunition—my bouldering effort, for one.

The Chevy makes a sad noise but refuses to start.

This can't be happening. I have a three-hour trip ahead of me on my own. I _need_ the three-hour trip on my own. The truck keeps making its pathetic _ruh-ruh-ruh_ sound. I slap the steering wheel.

"Dammit!"

A tap on the window next to me causes me to almost jump out of my skin. The Bulldozer's face is separated from mine by a pane of glass.

Needing both hands to do it, I wrench the winder. The window opens an inch.

"Problem?" he asks.

Duh. _Obviously._

"My truck won't start," I reply redundantly. Any fool could see that my truck isn't going anywhere right now.

"Come on." He opens the door. "You can ride with me."

My eyes widen as I consider the implications. Alone with the Bulldozer? For _three_ _hours?_

Before I can respond, he retrieves my duffel bag from the bed of my double-crossing vehicle and heads over to his shiny silver SUV.

I sigh and know that I'm defeated. After locking my truck, I glare at the traitor. "You and I are going to have words when I get back."

The Bulldozer stops. "Did you just talk to your truck?"

My head whips in his direction. "Of course not."

"Uh huh," he says, sounding unconvinced. He opens the trunk to his car and puts my bag in beside his.

I hoist my backpack over my shoulder as I walk toward his SUV. Shutting the trunk, he hurries to the passenger side, opening the door for me.

"Your chariot," he says with a sweep of his hand. I roll my eyes and get into the car. He shuts the door with a smirk.

I take a deep breath as he walks around the front of the car. I have a quick sense of _d__éjà __vu_, remembering the night he drove me to the hospital. Taking another deep breath, I inhale the scent of new car, leather, and the aroma I've come to associate with Edward.

He sinks easily into the car, slides on a pair of Ray Bans, and gives me a sidelong grin.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

_How am I going to last three hours?_

-~[YD]~-

We left Seattle city limits about half an hour ago. Neither of us has said very much, and the silence is _just a little awkward._

I look down at my hands, trying to come up with something to interrupt the quiet that's become a rather noisy extra passenger in the SUV. Deciding it's all too hard, I sigh—and resume my task of staring out the window.

Beside me, I'm aware of Edward's breathing. He takes a deeper breath than the others, and I turn toward him, thinking he's about to say something. He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end, and exhales.

It appears he finds the situation as awkward as I do.

Before things can get any more uncomfortable, my phone rings. Both of us jump—but I will be eternally grateful for the distraction. I grin when I see the name on the screen.

"Jake, hi!"

"Bells! How you doing?"

"I'm really good. How about you?"

Jake chuckles. "I'm great. I'm looking forward to seeing you."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you, too," I tell him with a smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward's hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter. "We're still good for tomorrow morning?"

"Definitely," Jake assures me. "Nine o'clock still suit you guys?"

I think about it. I'm sure the others won't make it to the cabin until much later tonight. "Could we make it a little later? Maybe closer to eleven? I think tonight's going to be a late one."

The Bulldozer half laughs. I glare at him.

"Sure, sure. I'll meet you at the gates to the park?"

"Yeah, that's probably best. I'll see you then."

"No problem. Bye, Bells."

"Bye, Jake."

Hanging up, I don't attempt to hide the grin on my face.

"Friend of yours?" Edward asks. It's pretty much the first thing he's said since we left.

"Yeah," I say, still smiling. "That was our guide for tomorrow."

"Hmmm." The Bulldozer's eyes remain fixed on the road. He doesn't attempt to make any further conversation.

I sigh. This is killing me.

"Mind if I put on some music?"

He waves his hand in the direction of the stereo. I take that to mean "be my guest."

Removing my iPod from my bag and plugging it into the dock, I sift through my playlists. I have absolutely no idea what music Edward is interested in, but right now, I don't care.

Unable to decide, I settle on the playlist I made last week.

Letting Thom Yorke's voice settle me, I sink into the leather seats and close my eyes.

-~[YD]~-

When I open my eyes, we're pulling into a gas station. Edward switches off the ignition and looks at me.

I look around. "Shit, was I asleep for long?"

"Only about twenty minutes," he replies, staring at me intently. I wipe my mouth, afraid there's drool trailing down my chin. He grins. "I need to get gas."

I reach into my purse to offer him money, but he waves me off. He opens the door and gets out. I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes—I must have been more tired than I thought.

When he returns, he's carrying two Cokes and two bottles of water in his arms. He passes me a water and a Coke as he shuts the door. Without saying anything, he starts the car.

"Thank you," I say as I open the water bottle—because it's nice to have manners, right?

"You're welcome."

I take a sip and recap my drink. Edward hands me his.

"Would you mind opening this, please?"

"Sure," I reply, taking the bottle from him. I open it and pass it back. "Here."

"Thanks."

As I turn to him to say "you're welcome," the words get caught in my throat. As he drinks, I see every mouthful slide down his throat, accentuated by the movement and his Adam's apple moving up and down. Without thinking, I press the cool plastic of my own bottle to my forehead. _Is it hot in here?_

He lowers the bottle and places it between his legs, screwing the cap back on. _Oh God, that's not helping. _

I fan at my face with my free hand. He looks sideways at me. "Are you okay?" he asks, concerned. "Do you need me to pull over?"

"I'm fine," I squeak. I clear my throat. "I mean, I'm okay."

He smirks—he's gotta be onto me. "If I can do anything, let me know."

I turn away from him and look out the window into the darkness. I can feel the heat rising in my face.

_What the hell is this? Blushing, Swan? Seriously?_

Needing a distraction, I give my head a shake and reach for the iPod at the same time he does. Our fingers brush, and I pull my hand back quickly—he does the same.

"Sorry," he says. "I must have caught some static when I got back in the car."

Hmph. He doesn't have any trouble apologizing _this _time_. _He reaches again for the iPod. Reading the screen, he snorts.

"Your playlist is called 'The Dozer'?"

"Um...yeah..." I stammer. "It's to...um...help me sleep." I'm clutching at excuses here. "You know, doze..."

He raises his eyebrows. "Uh huh," he says cockily. "And this..." he waves at the stereo "...is restful to you?"

"Tubthumping" is playing. I flame even more, and I'm thankful for the darkness. Where's confident Bella when I need her?

Trying to get a grip, I square my shoulders. "Maybe it is. You don't know me."

"No," he says. His voice lowers, and I can barely hear it over the British drinking song that comes from the speakers. "But, perhaps I want to."

I hit skip on the iPod, and the next song starts.

_I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know_

_Please don't say you're sorry_

_I've heard it all before_

_And I can take care of myself..._

I go back to staring out the window.

My phone chimes, indicating a new text. I look down to see Alice's name.

**So sorry I didn't tell you E was coming. Everything will be OK. You need to pick up the keys for the cabin in Pt Angeles. We're still in Seattle. Will call you later. ~ A x**

"That was Alice," I say. "We need to stop in Port Angeles."

"Yeah, she called when we stopped earlier," he replies. "I have the address."

"Okay."

He chuckles. "You know, for someone who has so many words, you seem to have very little to say."

I twist in my seat so I'm facing him. "What do you mean?"

He keeps his eyes on the road but talks to me. "The night I took you home—"

"You mean the night you _drove_ me home."

"Semantics. That night, you talked. You told me about your words. You said they were beautiful." He leans a little closer. "I'm just saying, you don't have nearly as much to say this evening."

I huff. "I had plans. I was supposed to drive up by myself. I like quiet time. I like quiet _by myself_ time." I shift so I can look out the windshield. I focus on the yellow lines on the road until I get dizzy. "I didn't expect company."

His voice turns hard. "I thought I was doing something nice by giving you a ride to the cabin." I see his jaw clench. "You don't need to be so rude about it."

"_Me_?" I cry in disbelief. "You think _I'm_ rude?"

"You're hardly showing any gratitude for my driving you."

I shake my head. He's making absolutely no sense. "So, the ultimate king of poor manners and hypocrisy thinks I'm impolite."

"If the shoe fits..."

"Obviously my first impressions of you were true! You're a rude, arrogant, rude..."

"You said rude."

"Asshole!"

"Now," he says, strangely calm. "That's not very polite."

"I'm not speaking to you anymore."

"Suits me."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"_Fine._"

"You're going to make this weekend very difficult."

"Whatever. Pot, meet kettle."

I stare out the window.

We each sit in silence, him staring at the road, me gazing into the darkness. My stomach growls—I remember I haven't eaten since a quick snack mid-afternoon.

"Are you hungry?" the Bulldozer asks.

"Do you care?"

"You're behaving like a child, you know," he says.

"Whatever."

"Oh, _that's_ mature."

I ignore him.

A little while later, we pull up in front of a bungalow. "We're here," he says.

Jumping out of the car, I stumble on the weight of my stiff legs before I straighten and walk across the front yard to the entrance to the house. I knock on the door and introduce myself to the friendly Native American woman when she answers. After signing some paperwork and accepting two sets of keys, I return to the car.

I give the Bulldozer the address, and he enters it into his GPS. We drive on, the car silent except for the droll tone of the GPS lady.

He turns off the 101 and drives up a long, sweeping drive. We round a few bends and cross a creek before a large, looming, wooden house greets us.

A porch wraps its way around the entire cabin, and the whole thing is lit warmly from the inside. Smoke billows gently from the stone chimney. It's as if the building is welcoming us home.

The SUV comes to a stop in the circular drive, right in front of the staircase leading to the front entrance. Beams of colored of light break through between the wood panels of the door.

"Wow," I murmur. "This sure beats a sleeping mat on the ground."

I open the door and step out. The cool breeze plays gently with my hair, and I breathe in the sweet smell of fall wildflowers that is mingled in with the fresh scent of pine. In the near distance, I can hear the babbling rush of the stream we passed on the way in. The gravel in the drive crunches under my Chucks as I find myself drawn toward the front door.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The Bulldozer's voice right next to me makes me jump.

"Yes," I respond, unable to hide my smile. "It's amazing."

I turn toward him, looking up into his face. He is half-lit by the warm glow coming from the house.

He's beautiful. I mean, I knew he was attractive, but...wow.

He smiles with a raised eyebrow, and in an instant, I remember that I'm pissed at him.

"Right," I say, heading for the trunk. I realize that our bags are resting at Edward's feet. He snickers.

I heft mine up onto my shoulder and march toward the house. "Here we go," I hear the Bulldozer sigh behind me.

After unlocking the double doors and swinging them wide open, I step into the entry hall. I call it an entry hall—because it's huge. To my right is a small office, and to my left, behind more double doors, is a massive, open great room. Contained within the vast space are a large, L-shaped modular couch and a ten-place dining table.

At the end of the room, in the middle of a glass wall, is the open fireplace whose smoke beckoned to us from outside. It glows warmly, inviting me to curl up in one of the armchairs that adorn either side of it.

In front of me is a staircase that leads to where I believe there are two bedrooms, and according to the website, another two are nestled behind the office. Both of these have French doors that open out onto the porch.

I rest my bag at the base of the staircase and continue my tour. Walking through the great room, I find myself in the kitchen. It's warm—retaining its old charm while at the same time is fitted out with modern appliances. A bowl of fruit rests on the counter, and upon opening the fridge, I find it stocked with the basics.

I have no idea how Alice found this place, but I never want to leave.

I've circled back to the entry hall, so I collect my bag and head to one of the downstairs bedrooms. I'm not stupid—I'm going to be climbing tomorrow, there's _no way_ I'm going to feel like hauling my ass up the stairs afterward.

I'm starving, but after sitting in the car for three hours, I need a shower. After that, I'll try to find something to eat in that great big kitchen. I wonder if they have wine...

After selecting a south-facing room with a king-sized bed, I dump my bag on the bed and unzip it. I'm sure my toiletry bag was the last thing I packed. I _did _leave it sitting right on top of my pajamas and clean underwear…didn't I?

I dig through the bag a little more and pull out a white t-shirt. Then...a pair of black boxer briefs?

Dropping them like they're on fire, I leap back from the bag—as if some other boy-related item of clothing will leap out and wrap itself around me.

This must be the Bulldozer's bag. I vaguely remember the two bags lying at his feet in the driveway, looking similar. So...if I have his bag...then he...

I pick up the underwear by my fingertips and stuff them and the t-shirt back into the bag. I zip it closed and run from the room, taking the offending duffel with me.

There is a light in the room just down the hall from mine. Maybe I can sneak past the doorway and back to the entry hall without being noticed. Then, I can put the bag back...and the Bulldozer will never even know I opened it.

I creep along, holding the bag tightly. Reaching the open door, I peer around to make sure I won't be caught. The Bulldozer has his—my—bag open on the bed, and_ oh my God_. In one hand, he's holding my black lace bra. In the other hand, he has my bottle of body lotion.

I watch as he flips the top on the lotion and sniffs. I totally forget about being stealth and step into the open doorway.

"What are you doing?"

He drops the bottle back onto the open bag. "I was just...um...I mean..."

It's my turn to smirk. "Oh, I think I know what you're doing," I say, stepping forward into the room.

"I have to admit..." I walk slowly toward the bed, putting a slight sway into my hips.

"...seeing you there, like that..." I drop his bag onto the bed. From across the wide, king-sized bed, I see his chest rise and fall.

"...with my things..." His Adam's apple bobs. He runs his hands through his hair, the bra strap still looped over his fingers. He ends up with the lace running over his face, the strap catching on his nose.

I lower my voice and lean forward, placing two hands on the bed. "I never pegged you as a cross-dresser."

He gasps and tries to wrench himself free. The lacy cup catches over his ear. It's like watching someone stuck in quicksand—the more you struggle, the more stuck you become.

I chuckle as he finally frees himself. "You really are maddening, you know," he tells me.

I narrow my eyes at him, placing my hands on my hips. "Huh. You're one to talk."

He fists the bra in his hands and waves it in my direction. "What exactly is your problem with me?"

"My _problem_?" My voice pitches on the last word. "You seriously have no idea?"

"What have I done to make you hate me so much?"

I growl and count on my fingers. "You're rude. You're arrogant. You stand there, all hot, knowing full well the effect you have on other people—"

"You think I'm hot?" The smirk is back.

I ignore him, my rage building. "You _didn't apologize!_ You didn't help pick up my things when you sent me sprawling! You left me in the middle of the floor, humiliated! And you were _fucking rude about it._"

The smirk falls.

"And I _know_ you laughed about me behind my back. So, there. _That's _what my _fucking problem_ is with you."

I snatch up my bag from the bed and reach for the bra that he is still holding. Yanking it from his grasp, I gather my things and storm back toward my room.

He's suddenly in the doorway, blocking my way. "For the record," he says lowly. "You didn't _let_ me apologize."

He takes a step closer to me. I step back. "You picked up your things so quickly that I didn't get the chance to help." Another step. "You were so busy being angry that I don't think you would have even listened to me." Another step.

He's so close—the only thing separating us is the duffel bag I'm holding. His heady, musky scent wafts around me. I close my eyes. He's too distracting.

I'm suddenly assaulted by memories of the gym, of the feeling of humiliation—crawling on my knees, sweeping stuff into my bag. I've been humiliated before.

.

_I stare at Jessica's face as she emerges from the tent. She steps out, and Diego follows behind her. My head switches between their direction and at the now-wriggling couple wrapped up next to the fire._

_I rise slowly to my feet, still holding the stick I've been poking the fire with. _

"_But...if you're not..."_

_The wriggling by the fire continues, until a head pokes out from the sleeping bags and blankets._

_My stomach drops. "Tyler?"_

_His face pales. The bundle keeps wriggling before it speaks. "Baby?"_

_I lock eyes with my boyfriend. He rubs his face._

"_Tyler, what's going on?"_

_The wriggling slows, and the bundle sits up. Long dark hair materializes from the blanket bundle._

_I say it again. "Tyler. What the fuck is going on?"_

_From the blankets, she yawns. "You mean you didn't know? God, he's right. You really don't pay attention, do you?"_

_I'm barely aware of the extra people gathering, sleepy-eyed and disturbed by the voices by the fireplace._

_My insides wrench. It's getting hard to breathe. I stumble backward. Tyler rises to his feet, his body wrapped in tartan. "Bella—"_

"_How long?" I blink back the tears I can feel forming. Crying can come later, when I'm alone. Behind me, I hear Ange trying to get my attention. I ignore her._

_His voice softens. "Bella, I didn't mean to hurt you—"_

_I poke my stick in his direction, like it's a saber. Like it can save me from this craziness. "How long, Tyler?"_

_He looks at the ground. "The week after she first came climbing with us."_

_I count in my head—three months. _

_From behind me, a snide, high-pitched giggle fills the morning air. "You really had no idea? Fuck, are you _stupid?"

.

My eyes flash open, and I advance. I drop the bag to the side and press my finger into his chest.

"You. Didn't. Even. Try." I punctuate each word with a poke in his chest. "You thought it'd be funny to have a laugh at my expense." I'm becoming slightly hysterical. "And then? The night at the bar? I bet you had a big fucking laugh about that one."

I scoop up the bag and look the Bulldozer square in the eyes. "You're cold and mean. So don't put any of this on me."

At that, I stride from the room and into mine, slamming the door behind me.

-~[YD]~-

Alice finally messages me once I'm showered and snuggled under the covers. I didn't bother going out to find food—there's no way I could face _him_ again.

**Sorry so late, on our way. Hope you had a nice drive. Don't wait up. See you in the morning. -A x**

Huh. Nice drive. _Right._

Although the big bed is comfortable and the sheets are crisp and cool, I can't find sleep. I keep replaying tonight's events over and over in my mind. I'm also ultra-aware that only two walls separate me from the man who has me spinning on edge like a coin. I'm both equally attracted to him and repulsed by him. All I know is that once I've stopped spinning, I'll fall in one direction or the other.

It terrifies me.

After some time tossing and turning, I pull out my laptop. There's no WiFi—which is a little frustrating to say the least—but I can at least try to start my article.

I give a description of the cabin, comment on its features, and write about the surrounding environment—well, as much of it as I can, considering it was dark when we pulled in.

I find myself including that moment of wonder when we pulled up—the way the cabin welcomed us with its warm, bathing light. The way it highlighted the red in his bronze hair and made his green eyes sparkle.

_Sparkle,_ Swan? Really?

After methodically—and repeatedly—hitting the delete key, I put my head in my hands. I can't see any way I'm going to last two days.

I'm not big into the romance genre, but I did read _Gone With The Wind _in high school_._ At the moment, I'm clutching at anything to get me through the weekend. That must be why Scarlett's reminder "tomorrow is another day" is rocking through my head like a mantra.

I hop off the bed and peek through the crack between the curtains, looking up into the vast night sky. Why are thoughts so much louder when you're alone in the dark?

An engine's deep rumble shakes me from my thoughts. I look at the clock—it's after 1 AM. The chattering of voices accompanies footsteps on the wooden floorboards, and I hear the thud of what must be bags hitting the floor—possibly in the same spot that I dropped mine by the staircase earlier.

A door much closer to mine opens, and more footsteps fade away down the hall. I switch off my light and hurry to my door, pressing my ear to it. It only makes the voices more muffled, so I crack the door ever so slightly.

Alice's voice rings out. "Edward! You made it!" I hear him greet her quietly in return. "Where's Bella?" she continues.

"She went to bed. I think she was tired..."

Yeah, tired my ass, _Ass_.

More greetings. Rosalie's voice is clearer than the others. "I'm exhausted, guys. I'm going to bed. Emmett?"

"Coming, sweet lips. What's the sleeping arrangements?"

The Bulldozer fills them in. He must have taken a tour himself. "There are two bedrooms with bathrooms upstairs. Bella and I have taken downstairs."

Emmett chuckles. "You and Chalky, huh? Gotta say, dude, I'm not surprised! After that day in the cave...Ow! Babe?! What the hell?"

"Say goodnight, McCarty."

"Sure, babe. G'nght, all."

"Oh, Edward," Jasper pipes up. "Did you bring my iPod? I left it in the dock at the gym—Em said you grabbed it."

"Sure, it's in my room." I hear two sets of footsteps coming my way. I close the door with the quietest of clicks, but I can still hear the voices not far from my door.

"Thanks, man," Jasper says. "So, you and Bella Swan?"

"Her last name is Swan? Fuck, that figures."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it suits her perfectly." I raise an eyebrow—where's he going with this? The Bulldozer clarifies. "You know how swans are. From a distance, they're beautiful. Graceful. Intriguing."

Jasper chuckles. I hear the squeak of his sneakers on the floorboards. "Intriguing, huh?"

"Yeah, but when you get close? They're still beautiful—but piss them off, and they're so vicious that they'll peck your fucking eyes out."

Jasper laughs quietly before his voice grows serious. "In all seriousness, though. E, you've gotta be careful with her. Something happened. I mean, apart from you being an ass."

Edward harrumphs. "What do you mean?"

I get the sense that Jasper is shaking his head. I press my ear closer to the door. "I can just pick up that she's been hurt. I mean, she has fun with us, but I get the feeling she's holding back. I don't think we've seen all of her yet."

Huh, he's more perceptive than I give him credit for.

"Hmmm."

"What I do know is that Alice and Rose both love her. If you ever do anything to hurt her, well...I know those girls. One's my twin, and the other's my better half. And...I know they'd fuck you up."

"Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime. Night, E."

"Night."

On my tiptoes, I creep away from the door to the bed and silently slip between the sheets. Knowing I'm no longer alone in the house with him, I find my eyes growing heavy. As I drift, one thought niggles at my brain. It's a tiny thought—inconsequential—but surprises me a little nonetheless.

He thinks I'm beautiful.

* * *

**A/N: **This week has been hu-uge! My entry for the Going for Gold Twi-fic contest was **Tumble Turns**, a little one-shot that did okay for itself. It's now on my profile. _Thank you so much_ to everyone who voted.

Thank you all so very, very much for the lovely reviews, alerts, and favourites. I tried to reply to you all, but it got a bit much. Please know that I appreciate everything, okay? I'm incredibly humbled by your kind words.

Ooh! Guess what? The** Bulldozer has a Facebook group!** Come play with us...we don't bite: www. facebook groups/ 359983704096004/

**Some Recs:**

I haven't had much time for reading lately, but here's a couple:

I'm a little late to the party, but I've just finished **Watching Her** by **les16**. I loved everything about it, and am about to start the sequel, **Drumsticks and Penalty Kicks.**

**Sideline Collision** by **Nolebucgrl**: I love pretty much everything she writes. And I totally nominated Rainbow as Best Original Character in the Fandom Choice Awards.

* * *

**Some music: The Dozer Playlist:**

Climbing Up the Walls – Radiohead

Fall at Your Feet (acoustic version) – James Blunt

Green Eyes - Coldplay

The Message - Grandmaster Flash

Tubthumping - Chumbawumba

Sorry - Madonna

Push It - Garbage

Apologize - One Republic ft Timbaland

You're So Vain - Carly Simon

Mutilated Lips - Ween

...what else would you add?


	9. Chapter 8: Big Wall

**A/N: **Here we go again! It's a public holiday here today, and four big things are happening: 1. It's the Melbourne Cup; 2. _It's my birthday!_; 4. It's a $100million lottery draw, and; 3. It's a Yosemite Decimal update! Yippee! My tip for the Cup is Americain. Get on it.

Getting this fic to you is a team effort. Big hugs and thanks to my adorable pre readers TwiSNFan and Louisemc86. The amazing RaindropSoup and mcc101180 make sure all my Aussie words and phrases make sense to the rest of the world. They teach me so much, and I love them for it.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, Britney owns Toxic. I own some wicked dance moves that I'll pull out once I win the Melbourne Cup, the Lottery, and hit 300 reviews ;)

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Big Wall** - A climb on which climbers will spend more than one day.

When I wake up, I'm confused. The bed is too big and too squishy. The quilt is too white and much lighter than mine. The ceilings are too high, and the room is too vast. I don't own a mahogany armoire; or a large, rich wooden dresser; or soft, billowy, blue curtains. I certainly don't own nearly this many pillows.

Relaxation and comfort follows the initial panic of not knowing where I am. I luxuriously stretch out in the wide bed, my arms not nearly reaching the sides. I smile as I catch a glimpse of the green forest beyond the cracks in the curtains and soft, white, overcast light. I'm home...well, not home, as such. But I'm back on the Olympic Peninsula—and in a kickass cabin to boot. I get to spend the day with my closest friends—my new ones and my best ones from forever ago, and…

The Bulldozer.

Shit.

Suddenly, the bed is not so soft, and the room is not so open. My skin flushes and prickles as I think of my temper tantrum from last night. Not that he didn't deserve a word of it. He did—right?

I wriggle my toes and sigh.

Maybe I said too much.

When I left last night, he looked completely shocked.

Maybe I went too far.

Unsheathing myself from the too-comfy sheets, I pad softly across the cool floor to the bathroom. At least I don't have to share a bathroom, especially since I'm on the same floor as...him. Thank God for small miracles.

I let steam fill the room, mirroring the view of the clouds I can see through the high bathroom window. Stepping into the wide shower—which is adorned with so many shower heads, buttons, and levers that I could quite possibly fly to the moon in it—I let the hot water flow onto the crown of my head.

I make up my mind. He might not be willing to say sorry, but I can be the bigger person—figuratively, at least.

Once my skin is rubbed red, I lather-rinse-repeat my hair and wash the suds down the drain. I step from the shower and wrap myself in a huge bath towel—everything about this place softly hints large and luxurious. I wonder if I can get some of these towels to replace the ones I have at home.

I've got an even better idea—I'm never leaving.

Drying off and twisting my wet hair into a ponytail high on my head, I dress for comfort and practicality with leggings and a tank then layer with a t-shirt and comfy gray hoodie. After giving myself a quick once-over and my now standard, pre-Bulldozer mirror motivational speech, I take a deep, cleansing breath and open the bedroom door.

The hall is light-filled, courtesy of the arch-shaped window at the end of it. I walk in the other direction toward the kitchen.

When I step cautiously through the doorway, the room is empty and still. I wander over to the coffee maker and switch it on. Deciding a batch of pancakes will be a good start to the day for everybody, I busy myself around the kitchen, moving easily and enjoying working in such a lovely space.

After a while, I pop my iPod into the dock and dance my ass off as I prepare breakfast. I can hear movement upstairs, which tells me someone else is up and about. I'm not too worried because I know I'll hear them come down the stairs, so I let loose.

_Baby, can't you see_

_I'm calling a guy like you_

_Should wear a warning_

_It's dangerous, I'm falling_

I sway my hips and twirl about.

My shoulders shimmy, and I jump up and down, flipping my hair. Thoroughly enjoying myself, I don't hear the porch door open and close.

The chorus kicks in, and I sing into my spatula.

"_I'm addicted to you_

_Don't you know that you're tox—_AAAGGHHHHHH!"

The Bulldozer is standing in the doorway, dressed in black basketball shorts, sneakers, and a sweaty, gray UW Medicine t-shirt. His bronze hair is damp and in its usual dishevelled state, and his face is flushed.

I clutch the spatula I'm wielding to my chest. "Jeez! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He smirks, running his hand through his hair. "Nice moves."

I narrow my eyes at him, and he chuckles. I straighten my shoulders and lower the spatula.

"So, I'm sorry I yelled at you last night. I was out of line," I say sincerely. I feel myself relax slightly as soon as the words are out.

He clears his throat. "Um…thanks."

"Okay, then."

He nods slowly, and I shift my feet. Smelling something burning, I turn to see one of my blueberry pancakes beginning to smoke unhealthily. After cursing as I toss it into the trash, I turn around to find him gone.

Sighing, I pour another pancake into the pan.

I'm better prepared when I hear footsteps behind me moments later. "I said I'm sorry. Can we just let it go now? Please?"

"Um...good morning, Bella?"

"Rosalie? Oh, God, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be." Rose winks as she takes a seat on one of the stools at the counter. "I guess your drive didn't go so well?"

I sigh. "The drive was...fine."

Rose sets her gaze on me, her blue eyes sympathetic. "Alice should have warned you that he was coming. She knows how you feel about him."

I set my mouth into a grim line—I doubt Alice fully knows of the turmoil that's been tumbling through my mind since I was sent...tumbling...myself. "Wait, he's not..."

"Shower," Rose confirms. "The others are getting ready upstairs, too. There's no one else here."

I let out a breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding. Changing the subject, I flip the pancake in the pan. "I spoke to Jake last night—you know, our guide? I changed our meet time to eleven."

"Sounds good." Rosalie and I share some more small talk as Alice and Jasper wander in. Jasper takes a seat next to his sister at the counter.

"Something smells amazing!" exclaims Alice, bouncing over to me for a hug. She squeezes me tightly. "I'm really sorry I didn't give you more warning," she whispers. "I just thought you two might get along..."

I give her a one-armed hug back. "It's okay, Alice, really. You can't agree with everyone in the world."

She smiles sadly at me. I don't get why she looks disappointed—it's true. Not everyone is destined to be friends.

Emmett charges into the room. "Chalky! You cooked?" I nod. He looks at Rose. "Sorry, babe, you're being replaced." She arches an eyebrow, as only Rose can. "Um, no you're not. Sorry, Chalks. This smells fucking fantastic though!"

I slide the stack of pancakes across the counter in front of everyone before pulling up a stool myself. Alice gathers plates, cutlery, and maple syrup and perches herself next to Jasper.

The kitchen is quiet but for murmurs of enjoyment and cutlery clanking. I swallow my mouthful and clear my throat. "We've got a late start today, guys. We don't have to meet Jake and the others until eleven."

Mutterings of ascent and "cool" are given as the sixth member of our party enters the kitchen. I know he's here, even without turning around. The air shifts slightly, and I'm aware of a buzz rippling across my exposed skin.

"E, you gotta try these. Chalky's a fucking stellar cook as well as a rock climbing champion."

I look down at my plate and blush. I have no idea when I became a blusher, but I don't like it. "Thanks, Em."

The Dozer clears his throat before sitting at the end of the counter. "It smells great." I glance up, and he's staring directly at me, his green eyes lacking some of that cocky edge I'm used to seeing. He almost looks apologetic. _Almost._ "Thanks for breakfast."

I freeze in my seat, unable to tear my gaze away. Someone drops a knife on their plate, breaking the tension. "Um...you're welcome." I gather my plate quickly and hurry to the sink. "I...um...have to jot down a few notes before we go...and do some...stuff. We'll need to leave in about forty minutes. Yeah."

Dropping my dishes with a clatter, I flee from the kitchen to the safety of my bedroom, closing the door behind me and letting my body fall back against it.

_It's just a day and a half to go, Swan. You can do it._

-~[YD]~-

Rose, sensing the weirdness, made up some excuse for me to ride with them—something about Emmett's vehicle handling the roads better than Edward's SUV. Whatever the reason, I'm grateful. Alice and Jasper are with the Bulldozer.

We all pull up in the parking lot at the entrance to the park and pile out. Waiting for us is a large, green Toyota Land Cruiser Troop Carrier with "Quake" printed along the side in crackled-orange print. Surrounding the logo are images of people canoeing, rock climbing, and hiking.

Leaning against the truck are two Native American guys. The taller one, grinning from ear to ear, is my childhood best friend. Before I can say anything to the others, I'm off and running across the lot.

"Jake!"

He catches me in his arms as I throw myself excitedly at him, and he whirls me around as if I'm six years old. I'm giggling and he's laughing that throaty laugh of his—which is quite a bit deeper than it was when I saw him last. He sets me down and holds me at arm's length.

"Bells! Shit, when did you turn into such a hottie?"

I slap him playfully. "You're one to talk," I joke. "What have they been feeding you there on the Res? You're huge!"

"So much so that I have to walk through doors sideways," he says with a wink.

I hug him again. "God, it's been so long."

He tightens his grip. "Entirely too long, Bells."

Behind us, a throat clears. I turn to see my friends, who have crossed the parking lot to join us.

"Jake, let me introduce you to my friends. Guys, this is Jacob Black."

Jake steps forward. "Hey," he says easily, extending his hand. He shakes hands with Rose and Alice, then with Emmett, Jasper, and the Bulldozer.

"Quite a grip you've got there...Eddie, was it? Are you a climber?"

I giggle. The Bulldozer scowls. Boys and their pissing contests.

Jake continues. "This is my business partner, Quil Ateara, and one of our trainee guides, Leah Clearwater. Leah's clocking up some training hours, so she'll be tagging along if that's okay—but Quil and I will be your main guides for the weekend." Everybody nods. "Awesome. Well, we'll head up to one of the little crags I like to use for groups this size." He motions toward the gates. "So, how about we all get moving, huh?"

I can't contain my excitement as I grin and bounce on the balls of my feet.

"Let's go!" Emmett says as he claps his hands together—he seems to be as excited as I am.

Jake gestures toward the road leading further into the park. "We've seen a few bears lately, so I'll just remind you to stick to the trails." Jake appraises the vehicles we arrived in. "Another thing—the roads are pretty greasy, so we might be better off in the Jeep and the Troop Carrier. I'm not sure that—" he gestures at the Bulldozer's SUV—"will make it. Bells, how about you ride with us? It'll give us a chance to catch up!"

I can almost see smoke come out of Edward's ears, having all but had his precious vehicle insulted. Like the mature woman I am—I giggle. I skip over to Jake and Quil's vehicle, climbing in back with Leah. We strap in, and Quil starts it with a rumble.

I shift to sit next to Leah, and we make small talk on the way into the park. It's a bit difficult because it's hard to hear over the engine and Quil's loud music, but we manage. I met Leah years ago—she was born and bred in La Push, and her dad was one of my dad's best buddies before he passed a couple of years ago.

Leah is eager to learn more about one of the fastest growing industries up here. Ecotourism is taking off in a major way—and if you have the knowledge, the opportunities in this region and beyond are endless. She's taken a traineeship with Quake to build up her practical experience, and hopes to eventually lead groups on her own.

The boys lower the music long enough to tell me about the local gossip. Sam finally married his high school sweetheart, Emily, and Quil and Claire are expecting their first child in a few months. Claire has been relegated to desk duties for Quake in the meantime, and she's really misses leading the programs.

They've just finished telling me about the time one of the other guys—Paul—drank too much moonshine and got into a jousting match with a tree, when we arrive at the parking lot close to the crag. We all stumble out, with Quil yelling "_en garde_!"

I'm laughing hysterically—I've missed the antics of these guys so much—when we wander up to the others. "Ready to go climb some stuff?" I ask the others, my earlier giggles still evident in my voice.

"Hells yeah!" shouts Emmett, his voice echoing off the surrounding trees. He gives Rosalie a slap on the ass, who returns it with one of her own upside his head.

Jasper smiles as he hands me the harness I left in Emmett's Jeep. I return his grin as Alice loops her arm through mine. Together, we follow Jake, Quil, and Leah up the trail.

A little ways along, I stumble on the path, earning me a chuckle from Jake.

"Still having problems walking on horizontal surfaces?" he asks good-naturedly.

I stick my tongue out in return. "Ah, shut it!"

"Hop up," he says with a wink, crouching in front of me.

"You've gotta be kidding! You're carrying all that stuff!"

"Eh, I'm tough. Besides—" he grins cheekily—"you're tiny!"

I laugh as I hop up onto his back. Jake adjusts the gear he's carrying and piggybacks me easily up the path. Somewhere behind me, I hear the Bulldozer's low voice muttering something about "his job"—I thought he was on vacation? Regardless, I ignore him.

We arrive at a quiet, secluded area. It's surrounded on three edges by tall, moss-covered trees, and the fourth wall is made up of a sheer cliff. There's evidence that this has been a favorite of climbers before, with white, chalky smear-marks at intervals up the rock wall.

I'm itching to get my hands on those marks, myself.

We set up, and Leah gives us the standard safety talk. The guys equip us up with gear, although we've brought our own harnesses and chalk bags. Quil runs us through some of the routes on the wall then asks who wants to go first.

We're climbing sport routes today—Jake and I had decided previously that we didn't want to drag in a bunch of trad gear, and there was already this little place set up. Given the time of the season, Jake didn't envisage it being too busy. He was right—we have this place all to ourselves.

Jasper readily volunteers to take the first ascent, with Jake on belay. While Jasper scales the cliff in his easy, stretching style, Quil and Leah are setting up a top-rope for Alice and Rosalie.

I happily watch for a while, sitting back and soaking up the cool, waterlogged air. I'm aware of the Bulldozer sitting off to my left—for some reason, whenever he moves, I'm aware of it. He's leaning against a tree, watching Jasper. His foot is tapping out a rapid, erratic rhythm against the soil. If I didn't know him for the cocky man that he is, I'd almost think he was nervous.

After a while and a few rests on the rope, Jasper has finished the route. Once he has his feet back on flat ground, he gives me a look. "Wanna show us your moves, Bella?"

I laugh as Emmett encouragingly whoops, "Go, Chalky!" I adjust my harness, pull on my climbing shoes, and make my way over to Jake and Jasper.

I pull on one of Quake's helmets—it won't be much help if I plummet to the earth, but it'll stop my head from being pinged from rocks falling from above—and reach behind me for chalk. Jasper is giving me the beta on the route he just attempted.

"You should find it okay," he tells me. "There's a funny, twisty lunge about halfway up."

I chuckle. "Is that a technical term, Jasper?"

He winks. "It is now. Just past that, there's a portion where it's fairly run-out. The rock up there is pretty much all choss*, which makes the route feel worse. Stick to the wall and you'll be fine."

I clap the excess chalk from my hands and give him a small laugh. "Easy as that, huh?" I roll my wrist and stretch my fingers back. Over by the trees, I'm aware of the Bulldozer watching me. Alice is crouched by his side, and she appears to be speaking in rapid, hushed tones. She places her hand on his arm, and he shakes his head.

_Hmm. Odd._

Jake gives me a grin. "Ready, Bells?"

"On belay?" I ask.

"Belay on," he confirms.

"Climbing," I announce.

"Climb on."

I grasp the rock in my hands, place my foot on the first foothold, and push. Once I'm a few feet off the ground, I exhale. This is what I've been waiting for.

Jasper was right. The route is okay—in fact, the early stages are kind of like climbing a ladder. It's got an easy left, right, left, right action—and lucky for me, this route setter doesn't hate short people.

I move up the cliff, a little slower than Jasper did. Then again, I need to put a little more thought into it—I can't just stick my hand up and hit the next hold.

"How's it going, Chalks?" Emmett calls as I'm resting on the rope, considering my next move.

"Okay," I call back. "I'm just thinking." I've reached the twisty lunge move that Jasper mentioned. I put my hand on the rock, and a small piece crumbles, falling to the ground.

"Rock!" I yell below. I hear a hollow _thock_ as it hits Jake's helmet.

"Shit! Thanks, Bells!"

I grin. When we were gumbies, we were lucky not to lose an eye—you'd be surprised how many people hear the call of "Rock" and look up, going, "Where?"

I peer down, seeing the upward-turned face of Jasper. He's blocking the glare with one hand. "Hey, Jas?" I call. "Which foot did you use?"

As he answers, my eyes follow a trail to the tree where the Dozer sits. Well, he was sitting. He's now pacing like a caged lion. His bronze hair has been pulled in all directions, so he pretty much looks _exactly_ like a caged lion. I wait for a smartass comment telling Jasper not to help me, but it doesn't come.

Maybe our little…_discussion_ last night has taught him to know when to remain quiet.

When I put my hands and feet back on the rock, I'm uneasy. The Bulldozer's pacing is making me incredibly nervous—it's not a good position to be in when you're twenty feet in the air.

I attempt Jasper's patented funny, twisty lunge and have to amend it to make up for the height difference. Once I've Bella-fied it, it actually works.

I grin and give myself an internal fist-pump.

After attaching myself to the next bolt, I look to see the runout. Jasper's right—the rock in this section is really shitty. I double check my current attachment point—I'm fairly confident it'll hold if I take a fall. Not that I want to—I really don't. I have a nasty habit of squealing like a girl when I take a fall of more than a few feet.

Okay, I know I'm a girl—but still.

I reach for the next move, and the crumbly rock breaks off in my hand. I have the insight to call "Rock," just as a particularly nasty piece shears into my skin.

"Dammit!" I watch blood form in a line on my finger. _Great_.

I wipe my hand on my leggings—they're dirty anyway—and reach. It stings, but it's not too bad. I've got another reach, and I'll be able to lock into the next piece of protection. My last one is a meter below me, which means if I fall, it's about a two meter drop.

Beneath my feet, the manky rock crumbles more. I need to be quick.

"Jake?"

"Got you, Bells."

I reach, just as the rock below me gives way. My feet drop before my stomach does, and the shock squeezes a scream from my lungs.

My knee scrapes the rock as I fall past my protection point, but I'm only aware of the words in my head:

_Not the ground. Not the ground. Not the ground._

My fall stops as abruptly as it started, with a tight locking out of the rope. My heart pounds, and so much adrenaline pumps through my veins that I think I could flap my arms and float to the ground.

"Bells?" Jake calls tentatively.

"I'm okay," I call back in a shaky voice. My hand and knee are bleeding—I'm not going to finish this one. "Dirt me."

Jake lowers me to the ground, and I bounce gently from the cliff using my feet. My bottom gently touches on the ground, and I sit for a moment, my hands still shaking. I look back up the cliff and exhale.

"Off belay," Jake says softly. "All good, Bells?"

I sigh grumpily. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just pissed, you know?"

He helps me up. "Yeah, I know."

Jake gets me—when we were younger, I'd go off by myself to sulk a little every time I failed to complete a climb. Nothing's changed. I like to think about it and debrief on my own. I go over each move and think about what I could have done differently.

Even after all this time, Jake knows to just let me go.

I dust off my ass and inspect my finger—it's not so bad. I take a few steps away from the cliff and the others before the sight in front of me stops me dead in my tracks.

The Bulldozer is standing, staring straight at me. His eyes look a little glassy, and he's deathly pale. His hands tremble, and his breathing is shallow.

He didn't even climb, but he is seriously sketched out.

"Hey," I say gently. "Are you okay?"

His breathing quickens. I see his knees buckle, and he drops to the ground, his eyes closed.

Without thinking, I rush over and drop before him. "Hey," I say again, a little more urgently this time. "Open your eyes."

His nostrils are flared—if his breathing doesn't regulate, he's going to pass out.

"Look at me," I plead. "You have to calm down."

He brings his hands up, pressing his fists into his chest.

I place my left hand on his cheek. "Edward."

His eyelids fly open, and his jade-green eyes glisten at me. He stares at me with an intensity I've never known—it almost takes my own breath away. Ever so gently, he leans his face into my hand.

His breathing slows and deepens as he maintains eye contact. I find myself breathing in time with him—his inhales match mine, his exhales collide with my breath in the air between us. We're breathing the same air.

"That's the first time you've said my name."

I blink. "It is?"

"Yes."

I ponder that for a moment. I suppose it is. "Edward," I say again. His name feels nice as it escapes my lips. "Are you okay?"

"I am now."

"Good."

We stay where we are for a moment, kneeling in the dirt. I'm aware of the sting forming in my knee, and I shift my position.

He notices. "You're hurt."

I wave off his concern. "It's not so bad."

"You need to clean it." His voice is earnest.

"Probably." I stand up. "You need sugar. I have some juice back in Emmett's Jeep."

He looks like he's struggling with my words. "Okay," he whispers.

I help him to his feet—he's still a little shaky. He looks around toward the others—they don't seem to have noticed our interlude.

"Wait here," I tell him. "I'll be right back."

I walk back over to where the others are watching Rose on top-rope and Jasper attempting a lead climb a little ways over, with Quill on belay. "Hey, Em. Can I have your keys? I want to go and grab those sandwiches we packed for lunch."

"Sure, Chalks. You need a hand?"

"No, thanks. I'll get Edward to help."

"No problem." He turns his attention back up the wall. "Hey, nice one, Rosie!"

I head over to where Edward is standing on the trail. As I pass Alice, she grabs my arm.

"Is he okay?" she asks, sounding worried.

I glance over to the trees. "You saw?"

"He doesn't like...attention when he has one—but I saw. So, is he okay?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"You handled that really well. He hasn't had one that bad in a long time."

I give her a small half-smile and walk over to the trees. Edward is waiting for me, leaning against a tree with his hands thrust in his pockets. "Come on," I say to him. He gives a small nod and follows me down the trail.

We walk back to the parking lot in silence. As we get closer, his steps even out, and his spine straightens. His breathing is only altered by the effort of stepping over the occasional fallen branch or by striding over the small puddles that dot the path back to the vehicles.

The trail opens up onto the wide expanse of the parking lot, and I hit the fob on Emmett's keys. Grabbing a bottle of apple juice from the cooler, I hand it to him.

"Drink," I instruct.

He pauses before taking it. Our fingers briefly touch, and that now-familiar spark passes between us.

Knowing the effect his drinking will likely have on me—and wanting to simply give him a moment—I turn to Emmett's monster vehicle and busy myself with gathering our packed lunch. When I turn back, he's drained the bottle and is perched just inside the rear of the Jeep.

"Thanks," he says. "I don't deserve it."

"Probably not," I reply with a small smile. "But you needed it."

"Yeah."

"So," I begin, sitting next to him, "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

"Not really," he replies, his voice hard.

I shrug. I'm curious, but I'm not going to push. "Okay. Well, can you give me a hand to take these back?" I pick up the bag that holds sandwiches and fruit and a couple of sneakily-packed candy bars courtesy of Emmett.

"You need to clean your knee. And your hand..."

"Right." I set the bag down and flush my knee with water from my spare water bottle in the cooler. After drying it off with tissues, I cover it with a Band-Aid from the little First Aid kit in the food bag. I inspect my finger and decide it will be fine. After putting the wrapping and tissues in a trash bag, I pick up the backpack again.

Edward silently grabs the cooler from the back of the Jeep and sets it down before closing the doors. I turn to walk back toward the trail, but his voice stops me.

"I don't like falls. They freak me out."

I pause for a moment before looking over my shoulder at him. He's staring at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck and kicking the dirt.

I nod slowly. Sensing he doesn't want to talk any further, I hook the bag up on my shoulder. "Come on."

As I wander back up the trail toward the others, I can't help but think about what he said. He doesn't like falls? Like, him? Or anyone? I mean, he doesn't even know _me_.

I'm super aware of the sound of his boots crunching along the path behind me, but he doesn't attempt to close the distance. When I get back to the crag, I find a clear, grassy spot and spread out the picnic on the rug I brought with me.

As we all sit around, munching on sandwiches, apples, bananas, and Emmett's candy bars, I sneak glimpses at the Bulldozer. He doesn't say much, but I do catch the tail end of a conversation he has with Jasper.

"Tell her I'm fine."

"She's just worried..."

"Well, she shouldn't be. It was nothing."

"You know what happened is nothing like..."

"Drop it, Jas."

"What I mean is..."

"Seriously, man. Leave it alone."

Jake's voice interrupts my eavesdropping. "So, do you get to see Charlie much?"

"Not as much as I'd like," I lament. "I should now. I mean, Seattle is obviously so much closer than Tucson. I should be able to do some weekends in Forks, no problem."

"Seattle's also much closer to La Push too, y'know," he says, nudging my shoulder.

I laugh. "Yeah, I can take a hint. I'll come and see you, too."

"Sure, sure," he says. "I expect a framed copy of this article you're writing, Bells."

"It's going online. What, you want me to frame a computer?"

"You could print it."

"_You_ could print it!"

He throws an M&M at me—does that make it just an "M"?

I dodge it and taunt him. "Leave no trace, Jake."

"You know I'll pick it up."

"Yeah, you will."

He sticks his tongue out at me. I stick mine out right back at him and dissolve into giggles.

Across from me, Jasper smiles. I grin back. The Dozer looks stony-faced. I suppose it's a result of his...episode earlier.

Emmett jumps to his feet. "So, we gonna get back into it?"

Jake follows suit. "Sounds good. Hey, Eddie, you want a shot?"

I see the Bulldozer's breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen. Before I can stop myself, I jump in. "Actually, how about you, Jake? Want to show me where I fucked up before? I mean, you haven't even tried to show off much—today."

The Bulldozer shoots me a grateful look. I shake my head.

_What the hell am I doing?_

Jake stretches out. "You know, you're right, Bells! Hey, Emmett, mind belaying for me?"

Emmett leans over to bump fists with Jake. "No problem, man! Hey, you can tell me about Mini Chalky—you know, what she was like back in the day? Was she always into bouldering? 'Cause do I have a tale to tell you..."

I sigh. I should have known these two would get along—and I should have anticipated that it would be at my expense.

As Emmett and Jake—new BFFs—wander off to inadvertently destroy the cliff faces of the Olympic National Park, I take a glance at the Bulldozer.

He's sitting on a log, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. He cocks his head to the side, giving me one of his signature smirks. This time, it takes a moment before he looks away. It's strange…it feels like something has shifted. It's almost as if there's an unspoken…thing…going on.

Well, more so than there was before.

I can't help it—part of me really wants to know what's going to happen next.

* * *

**A/N:** So, how does that humble pie taste, Chalky? It's not easy to admit you're wrong and apologize, but she needed to do it.

Big thanks to everyone who's been sharing the YD love out there, and a welcome to new readers! And to those of you who have been here from the start...yeah, you're awesome. Your loyalty to these two, and to me, blows me away.

Please come play in our **Facebook group**? Bulldozer Babes...that's us!

**Some Recs:**

**Through the Kitchen Window** by **TheFicChick: **This author is amazing—I seriously love everything she writes. Go read this one—it's a one-shot, but you won't be left feeling disappointed.

**Professionally Personal** by** DH78:** This is the first chapter, which she wrote for the Fandom for Twifan G compilation. Seriously, get on this one early...inked-up CEOward? *fans self* I need more of this. _More, _I tell you! (hint, hint DH78 ;) )

**Some definitions:**

Choss – bad quality, crumbly rock. The kind of stuff that crumbles in your hands—think canon Bella after the arm-wrestling match with Emmett. Cool if you're a vampire, not so much if you're a breakable human and relying on it to stop you from hitting the ground.


	10. Chapter 9: Fall

**A/N: **Happy Breaking Dawn Part 2 Week! I'm going on Sunday morning with a fellow fangirl—_so excited! _I didn't think I was going to get this out today, but here it is!

I hadn't realized the degree to which fanfic is a team effort until I started writing. Epic thanks to my pre-posting team: TwiSNFan, Louisemc86, RaindropSoup, and mcc101180. I'm learning so much thanks to you guys. And to my post-posting team, my readers, thanks for your love for these characters.

This chapter is dedicated to MissWinkles—you owe me now ;)

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**Fall - **

1. Undesirable downward motion, hopefully stopped by a rope.

2. A free-solo belay, the quickest way to reach the ground.

Definition blatantly lifted from Wikipedia.

We spend the rest of the afternoon climbing until our muscles are sore and our hands are torn. Aside from my scraped knee and cut hand, there isn't any further blood spilled. Emmett scrapes a flap from his hand—which he happily reseals with super glue and continues climbing—and Alice breaks a nail. She turns down Emmett's offer to fix it with super glue.

The Bulldozer watches from the ground. When Jake asks him later in the afternoon if he'd like a climb, Edward tells him no. Jake doesn't push it, and the Bulldozer seems grateful. We pack up at about four PM when it starts to get darker and clouds roll in. Just as Jake shuts the rear doors of the Troopie, the skies open and rain descends.

The roads back to the main parking lot are greasy, just as Jake warned us they would be. When we arrive at the main parking lot, we switch vehicles, and Emmett invites the others over to the cabin for dinner. Jake and Leah agree, but Quil declines—he needs to get home to Claire. I'm happy—it gives me more of a chance to catch up with Jake, and I really like Leah, too. Jake offers to bring beer, which his new BFF is thrilled about.

My muscles are beginning to get that delicious ache that comes after a good day's climbing, and it's difficult to drag myself from the big seats of Emmett's Jeep when we roll up in front of the cabin. A few rushed trips between the vehicles and the building gets us unpacked, and we all resemble drowned rats by the time we get inside.

I smile when I hear Jasper and Emmett groan as they climb the stairs and laugh out loud when Rosalie calls them big babies. _This_ is why I picked the downstairs room.

After closing my bedroom door carefully behind me and hobbling into the bathroom, I eye all of the levers in the shower. After the day I've had, I decide they must serve a purpose—I think I'll make the most of them.

I strip out of my dusty, slightly bloodied climbing gear and let the water heat before I step onto the tile. Relishing in the first ten seconds of hot water falling from the rain shower head, I let my head drop back as the almost scalding water rushes across my skin. I decide to try lever number one, and water shoots from a vertical series of jets in the wall tiles. I squeal and leap out of the way as one hits me directly in the face. Giving it further thought, I turn my back to them—they give an excellent back massage.

I think I moan when I hit another button and the water pulsates, enhancing the effect.

Another lever sends water beating a new rhythm from a detachable head on the wall. I remove it and use it to massage my shoulders

"Oh my _God,_ that's good."

I move the shower head lower, bringing it to the front of my aching thighs, careful to avoid the scrape on my knee.

_Mmm, just where I needed it._

My calves hurt, too. I move the shower head lower still, letting it work its magic on my lower legs. Holding one of the handles in the shower for support, I ease out the knots in my feet.

_So, _so_ good..._

I take a closer look at the shower head. Hmm...if it can make my sore muscles feel _that good_, I wonder...

I giggle, knowing I don't have time—I have to help with dinner. Replacing the shower head, I hit another lever. It sends the wall jets into a frenzy.

_Oh, that feels _much_ better._

I give everything a final stretch before switching off the shower. After drying off with a soft towel and leaving my wet hair to air-dry, I change into yoga pants and a comfy cotton t-shirt. As my hand rests on the slightly ajar bedroom door, I pause. Maybe I'll have to tell the cabin's owners that the door doesn't close properly.

When I reach the kitchen, Emmett, Jasper, and the Bulldozer are gathered around the island with a beer each and a bowl of chips between them. When I walk into the room, they all surreptitiously inspect their beer labels, the countertop, and the ceiling.

"Is there one of those for me?" I ask.

"Fridge," Emmett responds before going back to his beer. I give them all sidelong glances—because frankly, they're being weird—and pull up a bar stool at the counter.

"So, um...good day out," says Jasper conversationally.

Emmett and Edward nod their heads and busy themselves with chips and beer. I take a sip from mine—it's just what I need. Giving up on the guys and their weirdness, I collect vegetables from the fridge to start preparing dinner. I'm peeling potatoes and grateful when Alice and Rose walk into the room.

"How good are the showers?" Rose enthusiastically asks. Even in sweats and a too-large t-shirt that I suspect is Emmett's, she looks fantastic. She pours a glass of wine from the bottle on the bench and passes it to Alice.

"I think I'm in love," says Alice as she accepts the wine and perches on a barstool next to Jasper. "Sorry, baby."

"I know! I want to get one of those shower heads to take home with me—it was amazing," I add, carefully working the peeler.

Emmett chokes on his chips, the Bulldozer snorts his beer, and Jasper, ever so calmly, walks to the refrigerator, opens the door, and sticks his head into it.

I look at my girls, confused. Rose shrugs as she beats her choking husband on the back.

"So, when did Jake say he was coming over?" Alice asks, taking a sip from her wine.

"I think he said he needed to drop off the gear, head back to his place for a while, and then he was going to pick up Leah on the way here." I place the peeled potato into a bowl of water and take another.

At the fridge, Rose removes some salad ingredients and pushes her brother toward his seat. "How long have you known him, Bella?"

"Most of my life." As I continue peeling, I tell them about staying with my dad every summer and how Jake and I played on the beach at La Push when we were kids. I tell them we properly fell back into our friendship when I moved back during my junior year of high school. I'm done with the bowl of potatoes by the time I finish my story. It looks like too many, but considering Jake and Emmett will be here, it probably still isn't enough.

"So," says Alice brightly, "did anything ever happen between you two?" I avoid her eyes and drink from my beer without answering. "Should I take your silence as a yes?"

I continue to ignore her. The loud scraping of a chair on the wooden floorboards stops Alice from pressing further. "Anyone else for another?" asks the Bulldozer through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, thanks." I pass him my empty bottle. His jaw twitches, and he looks at Alice with an irritated expression on his face.

"How about you, cousin?"

Alice dismisses him with a wave of her hand. "No thanks. So, Bella...details?"

I take a deep breath to tell her the whole story, but the Bulldozer interrupts. "Are you sure you don't want a refill, Alice? I saw another bottle of white in the fridge. Or, maybe you'd like something stronger. You brought gin, didn't you, Rose?" He looks at Rosalie, who is returning his gaze with a confused one of her own. "Maybe you'd like gin. Or one of those fruity things you drink...with vodka?"

I stop in the middle of pitting olives for Rose's Greek salad and look at the Bulldozer. His word vomit is almost funny—although _very_ strange. 'Verbose' is not one word I'd use to describe him—that's more his cousin's style.

"I said I'm _fine, _Edward." Alice stares at him, her expression unreadable. He glares back at her, and suddenly, Alice's face lights with recognition, and her tone changes. "Actually, some more wine would be nice. Thanks."

I look from Alice to the Bulldozer and back again. I've no idea what happened, but Edward stopped Alice in her tracks.

_More weird going on here..._

After that strange little episode, the conversation becomes light, with Jasper and Emmett re-hashing their efforts from the day and comparing scrapes. I show off my own knee-graze, which is not nearly as impressive as Emmett's MacGyver-esque plastic surgery efforts.

Just as Emmett prepares to drop his jeans to show us the _epic_ bruise he got on his hip—despite our protests—there's a knock at the front door.

"That'll be Jake and Leah," I say excitedly as I walk toward the front door. I swing it open—Jake and Leah are standing there, both in jackets with the hoods up. It's still pouring rain outside.

"Come in!" I stand aside to let them in. They both remove their muddy boots, and I hang their coats on the hooks by the door.

"You're pretty settled here, Bells. You thinking of staying?" teases Jake as he gives me a hug.

I laugh. "Don't tempt me! Alice found this place, and it's absolutely amazing."

I lead the way back into the kitchen where everyone greets the newcomers with hellos, how are yous, and high-fives. Rosalie grabs drinks as I remove the steaks and tandoori chicken wings from the fridge.

"Okay, guys, make yourselves useful." I pass the platter of steaks to Jasper, and the guys boisterously head out to the grill. What is it with men, flames, and meat?

"Here," says Leah with a small smile as she passes me a basket. "I brought this for later."

"No way..." I say slowly, "Is this..."

"My mom's chocolate pear pudding."

"With chocolate sauce?"

"The one and only."

I do a little happy dance, careful not to drop the basket. Leah's mom used to make this every time I went out to La Push—I haven't had its rich, chocolaty goodness in years.

With the potatoes in the oven, the table set, the salads taken care of, and dessert ready to be reheated later, the girls and I enjoy a gossip fest around the kitchen counter while we wait for the boys to finish cooking the meat. I've had a couple of beers and am beginning to feel a little fuzzy, so I grab a bottle of water. I probably didn't drink enough of the stuff while we were out and about today.

The deep sound of men's laughter gets louder—Emmett's loud, blasting cackle and Jake's low, throaty chuckle are the most easily identifiable.

"And then, as her dad stood there, all red and yelling at us both, the car rolled down the embankment and into the creek!" The sentence finishes to further peals of laughter as the boys walk through the door.

"Fuck, that's priceless!" Emmett exclaims, wiping tears from his eyes. "Chalky! Didn't you cover the fundamentals of a handbrake when you learned to drive?"

I narrow my eyes at all of them as Jasper sets the platter of meat on the counter. "Jacob, what have you been saying about me?"

Jake avoids my glare by shaking his head. "Come on, Bells, you have to admit—it was pretty funny."

"You're kidding, right? Charlie grounded me for a month, and it took you ages to get the seats of the Rabbit dry." I pick up the bowl of salad and head for the dining table, muttering under my breath as I go. "I should have known you two would strike up a bromance."

Rose, hearing my murmurings, rolls her eyes. "You're surprised? Look at them—they're like two peas in a pod." She opens the oven, removes the tray of potatoes, and follows me.

The others grab the rest of the food and some more drinks before joining Rose and me at the dining table. Once we're all settled, Rose raises her glass.

"I had a great time today, Bella. Thanks for organizing it."

"To Chalky!" Emmett raises his bottle, apparently recovered from his laughing fit. We all clink bottles and glasses. From across the table, the Dozer stares at me as he pointedly offers his bottle toward mine. I'm unable to interpret what his eyes are telling me. Regardless, I find myself tapping his in return.

"Here we go." Alice rolls her eyes. Looking to me, she clarifies. "Emmett has a habit of cheersing everything as the night goes on."

"Is cheersing even a word?" asks Jasper.

"It is now," Alice responds...cheerfully.

"Do you know the rules of cheers, Chalky?" Emmett asks. I shake my head. "You have to look the person you're...cheersing...in the eye, because if you don't..." he leans in conspiratorially "...you're punished with seven years of bad sex."

I crack up—that's the funniest thing I've heard. My laughter dies in my throat as I glance at the Bulldozer who is sipping from his bottle, smirking at me knowingly. I clear my throat and pick up my knife and fork.

-~[YD]~-

We're cozied up in the great room with full stomachs, the fire blazing and the rain beating at the glass wall on either side of the fireplace. Empty bowls from Leah's dessert litter the coffee table and rest at the foot of chairs, while eight content bodies adorn various spots in the room.

"To down jackets!" Emmett says, lifting his bottle high from his spot on the floor. Rosalie sits on the couch behind him with her legs on either side of his huge frame. From her vantage point on the couch, she flicks his ear. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Because so far this evening, you've cheersed trucks with big wheels, Petzl, finger tape, Krazy Glue, Leah's mom, and Bella—twice."

"That's because Chalky's awesome! Isn't she, Edward?" He waggles his eyebrows at the Bulldozer.

"Shut up, Emmett." Rosalie, Edward and I speak in unison.

"I've got an idea!" Alice says suddenly, sitting up in her place on the floor by the fire with Jasper. "Jake—truth or dare?"

I groan. This can't end well.

"Truth."

"First kiss."

"Easy," he says with a wide, toothy grin. "Bells."

My beer label has suddenly become very interesting.

"Ah ha! Now we get to the good stuff!" declares Emmett. "I knew there was something going on with you two!"

"Jake, that doesn't count." I peel a strip from my bottle. "We were five."

"Then ask me about my second, Alice."

She obliges. "Okay, Jake—second kiss."

"That one's easy, too. Bells."

"Jake!"

"What? You were!" He grins wider. "I was fourteen, and she was fifteen. It was the same day she sent my Rabbit into the creek."

"Ooh, an older woman!" Emmett's voice is too loud for the quiet of the comfortable room.

"Sounds like an eventful day," mutters the Bulldozer from the couch.

Jake doesn't notice his tone; I don't understand it. My friend continues. "I'd just finished rebuilding it, and Bella begged me for a drive—Charlie wouldn't let her drive on the roads in Forks. So, we'd been driving around the back roads near my house, and when we got back, Bells was in the driver's seat. We didn't know Charlie was coming to visit my dad to go fishing." He stops for a moment, lost in the memory. "Anyway, Charlie starts ranting about how she could've killed herself and she shouldn't be so irresponsible, and while he's yelling, the car rolled away!"

I look at the floor. I was there—I know what's coming next.

"So, she stamps her foot and storms off. I chased her back to my workshop, where she'd gone to hide. She was pacing back and forth and was _seriously_ pissed off. I mean, have you _seen_ her temper?"

The Bulldozer snickers. I glare at him.

"Then, out of nowhere, she just grabs me by the shirt and kisses me. I wasn't much taller than her at that age, and she nearly broke my nose with her forehead."

The others erupt in laughter. I sink deeper into the cushions of the armchair and pray they'll swallow me whole.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh at my expense," I say bitterly.

"Oh, Bella, we're not laughing at you." Alice bounds from her spot on the floor, sits on the arm of my chair, and gives me a hug. "It's cute!"

I sigh. "All the other girls at school had these stories. I just wanted to get it over with."

Jacob winks at me from the other side of the room. I flip him off, and the others laugh harder.

Jake leans back in his chair. "Anyway, my turn. Emmett—"

"Dare."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"Emmett always chooses 'dare,'" says Rosalie. "I don't particularly want to watch my husband humiliate himself. Anyone for another drink?"

Alice nods and Leah holds up her glass. Rose takes it and retreats to the kitchen.

Morbidly curious—and happy to see the attention on someone else—I stay put.

"Emmett, I dare you to seduce the person on your right."

I'm fairly grateful it isn't me, but it looks like Jasper isn't so relieved. After laughing at Emmett's terrible seduction techniques, all of us, including Jasper, are laughing.

"Okay, my turn." Emmett settles back into his spot against the couch as Rose returns. "Alice, truth or dare?."

"Truth."

"Have you shoplifted, and what was it?"

Edward laughs, and Alice scowls at him. "Did you tell him?" she cries. The Bulldozer gives her one of his smirks as he sips his drink. Her face grows as stormy as the night outside. "Fine. It was a baseball at a sporting goods store. I was seven. Edward told me if I didn't, he'd tell everyone at school I wet the bed—I didn't, by the way."

Emmett guffaws. "And what happened next?" From his tone, I think he already knows.

Alice glares at Edward. "He told my mom I'd taken it and that I did it because I wanted to play Little League baseball. Mom, being all 'women's lib,' enrolled me straight away. I played three seasons."

"Three?" I ask. "If you didn't want to play, why did you keep doing it?"

"Eh." She shrugs. "It was kinda fun—and I was faster than most of the guys."

The image of an even smaller Alice tearing around the bases has me giggling. After a few more rounds, Jake is wearing a dress made of newspaper, Leah has shared her worst injury—spraining her ankle while chasing cats in the dark—and Rosalie has told us that her biggest fear is of horses, which she didn't know herself, until the time her dad took her to her uncle's ranch.

The drinks have been flowing, and I'm feeling slightly buzzed. On my turn, I got truth, and Leah asked me about the worst camping trip I'd been on. Not wanting to share, I took a shot. No one pushed.

Drunk Rose is funny, and right now she's giggling. "Edward," she says with an evil grin. "Truth or dare?"

He levels his gaze back at her. After a glance at Jasper, who has been clucking like a chicken every time someone makes a reference that could be interpreted as sexual, he looks confident. "Dare."

Rosalie's grin widens, and she leans forward, resting her forearm on Emmett's shoulder. "I dare you to kiss Bella."

The room goes quiet for a moment, and the silence rushes in my ears. I become aware of my heart pounding as voices rise and Alice gasps. I stare at the Bulldozer. He stares back, and his eyes, normally a vivid green, become darker right before me. I swallow the knot that has formed in my throat as goose bumps rise on my skin.

With the couch between us, I see him shift in his armchair. He leans forward slightly, licks his lips...and drains his glass.

I examine a loose thread on the cushion I've been tugging and try to pretend that his action didn't hurt. I look up when I hear leather creak, and the Bulldozer speaks.

"Al, you can take my turn. I'm going to bed."

He leaves the room to calls of "night" and "see you in the morning."

Jake stands, slightly wobbly on his feet. "We'd better be off too, I think."

"I hope you're not driving, Jake," I chastise him.

"It's okay, Bella. I've got the keys," Leah interjects. Everyone rises to say goodbyes and goodnights. I walk Jake and Leah to the door, and Leah dashes out in the rain to open the car door. It's really coming down out there.

"Thanks for today, Jake. It really was fun," I tell my friend, handing him his coat.

He looks toward the hall that Edward disappeared down earlier. "I think you've got an admirer, Bells."

"What?" Jake must have missed the way Edward bolted from the room at the prospect of kissing me.

"Just saying, I think he likes you." He leans closer. "But just so you know, if he hurts you, I know plenty of places to hide a body."

I laugh as I shake my head. "Sure, Jake."

His brows furrow, and he grows serious for a moment. "You like Leah, don't you, Bells?"

"Sure, she's sweet," I say, not sure where this is going.

"Cool," he says. "'Cause I've been thinking of asking her out, but I'm not sure. I mean, what if she says no?"

"Then she's missing out." I reach up to give him a hug. He sways a little. "Goodnight, Jake. I'll talk to you in the morning about tomorrow." I kiss him on the cheek. Behind me somewhere, a door slams.

I wave them off and close the front door.

Returning to the great room, Rose and Alice are gathering the empty bowls, bottles, and glasses. Quietly, we tidy up the kitchen, and Jasper takes the empty bottles out to the trash. In the time it took for me to send Jake and Leah off, Emmett has started snoring on the floor. I smile to myself at the domesticity of it all.

Once everything is in its place, I bid goodnight to the others as they climb the stairs, Rosalie having woken Emmett from his floor slumber by shaking him rather violently. I switch off the lights and make my way down the hall to my bedroom.

I open the door, switch on the bedside lamp, and grab my pajamas. After scrubbing the alcohol and chocolate pudding from my teeth in the bathroom and carefully brushing out the snarls in my hair from leaving it to air-dry earlier, I switch the bathroom light off and walk back into my room. My hand immediately flies to my chest, and I gasp.

"Oh my God! You scared me!"

A hand claws through unruly, bronze hair. "I felt like I needed to explain myself."

"Explain what?" I ask indignantly—his earlier rebuff still stings.

His tone is serious. "So much. There's so much I feel I need to tell you."

I cross my arms over my chest, aware that I'm ready for bed and wearing less than what he saw me in earlier. Though as I think about it, he has seen me in less, but still. I close my eyes in delayed embarrassment at the memory.

"Maybe you could start with why you're in my room without knocking."

"I knocked," he says quickly, gesturing toward the door. "There was no answer, and the door was open."

"Yes, apparently I need to talk to the owners about that."

He rubs the back of his neck. "You were nice to me today—at the cliff? And I haven't really given you a reason to do that."

I take a deep breath. "No, you haven't."

"But you were anyway. Nice."

"'Nice' is such a boring word."

"Ah, yes." He chuckles. "Words are important to you."

"Of course they're important," I reply. "If you're incapable of mind reading and don't use sign language, the spoken word is the way most people communicate."

"But some things can be said without words."

"Yes," I acknowledge. "But words help."

"What do you want me to say?"

"What do you _want_ to say?"

"So much."

"So...go on, then."

He steps toward me. I hold my ground. His head falls. "I find it hard."

I snort and walk toward my duffel, stuffing my daytime clothes into the laundry bag I brought. "If you find it so hard to talk to me, why are you even here?"

When I straighten and turn to look at him, I see a similar man to the one at the cliff. He has both hands fisted in his hair, and he appears to be struggling with something. My feet take me to the end of the bed, and my fists find my hips. I'm not going to stand here all night waiting for answers.

"You should go."

"I know."

"So why are you still standing here?"

"Because I haven't said what I came to say."

I look at the floor, and I'm aware of how small my voice sounds. "Am I that repulsive to you?"

In my peripheral vision, I see his hands drop to his sides. "What?"

I keep my eyes down. "The dare. It was that bad to you? I mean, I know I'm not...I guess...it was just a game..." The humiliation is growing, and the alcohol and exhaustion from a big day are breaking my resolve. I sigh and tilt my head down farther, examining the comforter on the bed behind my legs. "Really...you should go."

Suddenly his fingers rest below my chin, and he lifts my face to look at his. I have no idea how he got to me so fast, or so quietly. "You think I'm repulsed by you?" he asks softly.

I blink. His gaze is soft. I can only nod—I feel so vulnerable that it's making my stomach churn. This is not how I want him—anyone—to see me.

His lips pull up at one side. "Bella," he says with reverence. "Believe me—I'm not repulsed by you."

I try to look away, but his hands won't let me. He cups my chin in both hands, his thumb tracing the lines of my cheekbones. His tone is serious when he speaks. "Did you really think that the first time I kissed you that I wanted it to be as a dare? As part of some stupid game? In front of an audience?"

As much as I love words, mine are lost. They've left my head and are soaring somewhere high above me because just then, while he holds me as if I'm as fragile as a butterfly's wings, the Bulldozer licks his lips and presses them softly to mine.

* * *

**A/N: **Yep. I'm leaving it there. Well, for this chapter at least ;)

As always, thank you so much for reading. I'm truly grateful for your kind words and love the community that goes with this fandom. Thanks for sharing your opinions, whether by reviews, Twitter, Facebook, or by reccing this to others. I'm trying to improve, and I really believe your feedback helps me. So, sincerely—thank you.

**Some Recs:**

**Rise** by **Rochelle Allison: **I'd wanted to wait until this was complete, but couldn't help myself. If you're not already reading it—which many seem to be—check it out.

**Cooking for Dummies **by **Nikita2009**: Chefward, and a feisty-as-hell Bella. Is it me, or are all Edward Masens automatically hot? This guy can cook for me any day.


	11. Chapter 10: Hangdog

**A/N: **Thanks, always, to TwiSNFan, Louisemc86, mcc101180 and RaindropSoup. I didn't think I was going to get this out today, but I wanted to make an extra special effort for the girls on Twitter and Facebook. You've been so supportive while I'm going through a rough patch. This is for you, ladies.

P.S. Breaking Dawn 2—wow.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**Hangdog - **While lead climbing or on top rope, to hang on the rope or a piece of protection for a rest.

This is happening. The Bulldozer—Edward—is kissing me. And I'm unable to move.

For all of about three seconds.

What starts out as a simple, gentle pressure gradually builds. His lips move, and I find my own moving with them. His hands slide from my face to rest in my hair, weaving through and giving a gentle tug at the roots. My hands, on their own accord, rise from my sides to rest on his biceps for the briefest of moments before I move them up to reach around his neck. The brownish-reddish-goldish hair I've had my eye on for so long is now literally at my fingertips then grasped in my hands. He moans, and I'm done for.

His tongue swipes my bottom lip, and my mouth opens, inviting him in. The slightest of touches to my own tongue gives me just a taste, and _dammit—_now I want more. My body tingles everywhere, and I feel like a live electric wire from my scalp to my toes. I tilt my head slightly to feel more of him; he does the same. I fit perfectly here, in his arms, against his body—and I wonder how I never quite noticed that before.

He presses one final, closed-mouth kiss to my lips as he pulls back and looks down at me, his hands sliding to my waist. My chest strains as I try to gather breath.

"I want to apologize."

"For kissing me?" He's kidding, right?

He chuckles. "No, I won't apologize for that."

I'm still breathless. "Good."

He reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his green eyes earnest. "I haven't apologized for that night in the lobby of the gym. It was rude of me, and I behaved in a way not fitting of a gentleman." He pauses, and gives me sheepish grin. "So, I'm sorry."

I blink. I wasn't expecting that, but it's okay—he's not expecting this.

In a move that's completely unlike me, I reach up behind his neck and pull him to me. His hands sink into my hips as he draws me closer, and it's hard to tell where he starts and I stop as our lips move together. This kiss is not like the previous one, which is made even clearer when my tongue fights with his. I hear him moan, or maybe it's me, as the edge of the bed presses into the back of my knees. I'm at that point between falling backward and pulling him against me when he stops, wrapping his arms around me and groaning into my neck. My breaths come out in heavy pants, and when I open my eyes, the room seems brighter, the colours clearer.

"Bella…"

"Yes?"

"You're making this really hard right now…"

I giggle, 'cause the next line is right there—that's what she said.

He groans again. "You can't say shit like that, really."

"Oh my God, was that out loud?"

"Yes."

"Do I do that often?"

He chuckles, and I feel the rumble vibrate through me where our chests are pressed together. "Yeah, you do."

I close my eyes and grimace. "Shit, I'm sorry."

He pulls back and rubs his nose against mine. "Don't be. It's cute."

I roll my eyes. "If you say so."

"I do." He exhales through his nose. "I'm going to let you get to bed." My ears redden, and he hastily adds, "And I'm going to mine."

_Really? What? No!_ "Okay."

His arms are strong as he holds me and presses his lips to my forehead. "Goodnight, Bella."

-~[YD]~-

In the darkness, I feel the bed shift. I'm not sure how long I've been asleep, but the cool breeze that comes with the covers being lifted gives me goose bumps. Well, maybe it's not the covers.

Maybe it's him.

I smile as his scent surrounds me. His voice is low when he whispers in my ear. "I couldn't stay away."

Unable to say anything else, I arch my back as his lips work their magic on my neck, teasing me just below my ear. "You smell fucking amazing," he murmurs into my neck, and I roll my body toward him as I wrap my arms around his neck. His hair tickles my hands where fingers meet palms, and I steer his head to find my lips. "Had to be near you…couldn't…"

One kiss blurs into the next, which blurs into the next, until we're not coming up for air. I can taste him, smell him, hear the sound of our lips moving and the air being drawn through his nose. I'm drowning in him—and I never want to surface.

He pushes me back into the mattress and rolls his body over mine. I can feel him along the length of my body—one part more prominently than others. I moan into his mouth, which only urges him on.

After pressing a final kiss to my lips, he pulls back for a moment. "Bella," he says, stroking a stray piece of hair from my forehead. "I just wanted to say that…"

My breath catches. The way he looks at me makes my heart skip a beat before starting again at a slower, louder cadence.

"Yes, Edward?"

He opens his mouth to speak. He pauses as if the words are caught in his throat. Taking a deep breath, he starts again…

_Bzzzzzzzzz…_

"Edward?"

_Bzzzzzzzzz…Bzzzzzzzzz…_

What the…?

My chest heaves, and I open my eyes. A bright stream of light bursts through the crack in the curtains, and I can hear the heavy sound of rain hitting the porch. Sadly, the rain is drowned out by the incessant vibrating of my phone on the nightstand.

I snatch it up and slide the unlock bar, annoyed at myself for setting an alarm—although I can't remember setting it. Yawning loudly, I open my messages—there are two new ones:

**Bells - Need 2 cancel 2day. Weather 2 bad. Careful getting out of cabin - roads will b bad. Talk soon. Jake.**

**B - Didn't want to wake you. Em got a msg from Jake. we're heading back to Seattle early. Edward said he'd drive you home. Will call you ~Alice x**

I look at the time on my phone—how did it get to be almost noon? Double-checking the messages, I see that Jake's was sent at seven AM, Alice's at eight-thirty.

I snicker to myself—of course Emmett and Jake exchanged numbers at some stage. That was always going to be a match made in heaven.

After the Bulldozer had given me a very chaste kiss goodnight on the forehead, I climbed into bed and prepared to have a good night sleep. Then I'd tossed. After that, I turned. Then I tossed some more. At about three AM, I got out of bed to get a glass of water from the kitchen. At five, I watched the first light of the morning sky break over the trees through my window. It was after that that I _finally_ fell into a long-overdue slumber.

Dragging my weary, sore body from the twisted sheets of my bed, I stagger to the bathroom and take in the birds' nest on my reflection's head. Reflection's cheeks are flushed and her eyes, although slightly bleary, are brighter than I've seen them in a long time.

With a smile, I gently touch my fingers to my lips, feeling where his kiss took me by surprise last night. I smile wider and blush when I think about where Dream Edward continued what Real Edward started. Then, to add to the solo girly-fest I've got going on in my bathroom, I giggle and do a little wiggle dance.

Letting the water heat in the dream-shower-from-extreme-happy-places, I shed my sleep clothes and soak up the rushing water that cascades over my body. I hum as I lather myself with body wash and do a little dance as I towel off afterward. I dry my hair and give it an extra brush before grabbing my phone and skipping barefoot from the room.

As I get closer to the kitchen, I'm drawn to the smell of coffee. The sound of half a conversation gets louder, and I realize Edward is on the phone.

"No, I haven't seen her this morning…" I watch from the doorway as Edward pours a cup of coffee, the phone braced between his shoulder and his ear. "Yes, I did…" he chuckles "…yeah, she accepted…I know…Yes, I know…I gotta go…Mom…_Mom_…I will…Love you, too…Bye."

He presses the screen on his phone and turns around. When his eyes fall to me, he grins. "Good morning, sleepy head."

I look up shyly. "Good morning."

He sets his coffee down and walks over to me, taking both of my scratched-up hands in his smooth ones. Turning my right hand over, he traces the silvery scar with his thumb before kissing it gently. Consistent with my girly-ness this morning…er…afternoon, I blush.

"Hmm," he says. "I like it when you do that." He leans down to gently kiss my lips. "Good morning."

I laugh. "You said that. Besides…" I nod to the clock "…it's afternoon."

"You're right." He smiles. "Good afternoon, then."

"Good afternoon."

He kisses me again before pulling back with a hum. "So, breakfast?" He crosses the kitchen and returns to the coffee machine.

I follow and stop at the island to perch myself on one of the stools. "As appealing as that sounds, I think we need to get going. Jake texted me and said the roads might be bad."

"Yes," he says, pouring a cup of coffee and handing it to me. "I spoke to the others before they left this morning."

"You did? Why didn't somebody wake me?"

"I wouldn't let them," he replies, as if it should be obvious. "You had a big day yesterday, and a late one last night." He winks at me over his own coffee.

I smile as I take a sip from the steaming cup. "Thank you."

"Anyway, apparently Jacob texted Emmett to cancel today and suggested leaving early. The others left at about nine."

I look at the clock. It's almost one PM, and a quick glance out the window tells me we should probably hit the road, too. "It's really coming down. We really should go…I'll go pack my stuff."

Placing his cup in the sink, he quirks an eyebrow at me. "Kiss first?"

I giggle. "You had one…or two"

Edward strides toward me, wrapping his hands around my waist. "Maybe I want another."

His mouth reaches mine, and resistance is futile. "Okay," I mumble against his lips. He chuckles and, after a moment, pulls away from me.

"I'll tidy up here. We can grab something on the road."

"Thanks." I start to walk toward my room when a thought randomly pops into my head. "Shit, I was supposed to see my dad. He lives in Forks. I know it's out of the way, but…"

From across the kitchen, Edward smiles. "I can take you there. It's no problem."

"Awesome," I say with a grin. "Hey, there's a diner in Forks. I'll treat you to a piece of pie. They make the best pie."

He grins back, his eyes twinkling. "I'll take you up on that. Now go pack—I'll start loading the car."

-~[YD]~-

We're in the car, and we're both soaked to the skin. The rain is pouring down outside—we had to run for the SUV, and even in that one trip, we ended up drenched. Edward has switched on the window demister, and the rain is falling faster than the wipers can clear it. We've locked up the cabin, extinguished the fire, and straightened the rooms. Edward is going to drive me to Forks first before doubling back through Port Angeles to drop off the keys. I hold my hands in front of the heater vent in an attempt to defrost them—the bad weather appears to have really set in. I only hope we can make it down the muddy drive and onto the highway.

Edward is taking the bends on the slippery road near the cabin extra-carefully. I get the impression he doesn't drive in weather like this very often because his hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard that I can see the whites of his knuckles. His brow is furrowed, and he is focusing intently on the road ahead.

A few bends later, I open my mouth to ask if he's okay. Before I can speak, he slams his foot on the brakes. "Shit!"

The car slows before going into a skid, sliding through the mud. Edward turns into it, and the car's rear end slides around. I gasp as we come to a stop—the SUV is perpendicular to the path of the drive. My heart is pounding as the front of the car is directed toward the trees. I look over to Edward—his eyes are closed, and he's pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Edward?" I ask, tentatively placing my hand on his bicep.

"I'm fine," he replies through heavy breaths. "Give me a moment, okay?"

"Sure." I look out my window to see what made him stop so suddenly. The little creek we crossed on the way in has become a raging torrent, white water and all, rushing over the top of the tiny bridge. We look to be just feet away from being taken away with it.

"Damn, that was close," I whisper.

"Too close," Edward replies in a pinched voice—his hands are shaking.

"What do we do now?"

"We'll have to go back to the cabin." He nods in the direction of the rushing water. "There's no way we're getting through there."

I nod. "Do you want me to drive?" He still seems a little freaked out.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'm okay." He carefully turns the car around—managing to avoid the water that seems to be slowly creeping toward us—and starts back up the drive toward the cabin. After another trip through the rain to the shelter of the porch, we walk around to the mud room and enter the cabin through the kitchen.

I pull my phone out of my backpack. "I'd better call the owners. We'll need to let them know about the keys."

"I'll start the fire." Edward is already walking toward the great room.

"Okay." I scroll through my text messages until I find the number Alice messaged me last week. I call the cabin owner to let her know we've been rained in, and she doesn't sound surprised. She tells me not to worry—there are no imminent bookings on the cabin given that the season is changing. I'm instructed as to the generator is, and she tells me where spare fuel stored in case we need it. I thank her, and she replies that it's no problem before asking us to drop the keys off once we're able to get out.

She can't promise when that'll be, though—it seems like the storm is building.

After hanging up, I walk into the great room where Edward is crouched in front of the fire. It's beginning to blaze, and I can feel its warmth from where I stand in the doorway.

I take a moment to just observe—with my work, I do a great deal of people watching. While I enjoy imagining the stories attached to the people, I, for the life of me, can't figure out the man who's across the room from me right now.

At times he comes across as standoffish and aloof. He has an aura to him that screams self-confidence; however I've seen that mask slip on more than one occasion. Take just now in the car, for instance—the skid caught him off-guard. Although he'd been driving carefully, when it came down to it, the situation became out of his control. It was then that I'd noticed his eyes widen, his breath quicken, and a sheen of sweat appear across his forehead.

Right now, seated before the fire, he appears calm. Relaxed.

He really is an enigma.

From his position, he stands up and squares his shoulders. I see him cock his head slightly before he turns to face me. A half-grin breaks out on his face, and he walks slowly toward me.

"What did the owner say?" he asks, pausing at the couch to lean against the back of it. He folds his arms and looks at me intently, and I get the impression he knows I was watching him.

"She said it's fine for us to stay. Apparently there's a storm rolling in. She mentioned there's a generator out back."

"Good to know."

"We might be out of here before it gets that bad."

"I doubt that." He smirks and runs his hand through his hair. "But, okay."

"What are you saying?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

"You're new to Seattle, right?"

"I grew up here," I reply indignantly.

"But you haven't lived here for a while, right?"

I consider this for a moment. "I moved away after high school."

He walks closer. "All I'm saying is that once a storm rolls in, it tends to hang around."

I straighten my spine. "I know that."

"Yeah, and all that water rushing through the creek?"

I nod.

"Well, we still need to get whatever's coming from upstream." He grins crookedly and saunters toward me. "We could be here for days."

"Days?"

"Uh huh." That scent I've come to associate with him becomes stronger as he nears.

"Oh." With every step he takes, I further lose the ability to speak—let alone think—coherently.

Edward places one hand on my waist. His eyes stare deeply into mine. They're twinkling with…something. "We'll have to find a way to…entertain ourselves. But it's okay, I have some ideas." His voice is husky.

I whimper, just a little.

He looks at me from under his lashes. "So, I was thinking…"

"Yes?" It comes out as a squeak.

"Scrabble?"

I pull back and look at him. "Excuse me?"

He grins, that crooked grin causing his left eye to crinkle slightly. "I asked if you wanted to play Scrabble. You like words, right?" He releases my hip and walks to a shelf by the flats-creen TV that's stocked with board games.

"Um…er…sure."

Holy shit, he's killing me.

Feeling flushed, I blink and tuck my hair behind my ears. "Actually, first I'm gonna go…um…" I thumb in the direction over my shoulder "…unpack, and um…ouch!" I back into a lamp table, the lamp adorning it swaying slightly. I reach out to steady it, preventing it from falling and making for a rather expensive trip. "Yeah. Unpack and freshen up." I'm still walking backward. "I'll be right back."

I flee from the room, swiping up my backpack as I go, and head for the room where I spent the last two nights. Once I'm in, I shut the door, press my back to it, and slide down before hitting the floor.

-~[YD]~-

Edward avoids me once I emerge from my room after my little freak-out. It took a very serious conversation with my reflection in the bathroom mirror for me to be able to walk back out into the great room with everything looking under control.

As soon as I'd returned, he disappeared to have a shower. When I sat on the couch next to him, where he was lounging back and watching TV, he got up to get a drink. Now, it's almost as though he can't bear to be in the same room as me—which is weird.

It's also _very_ frustrating.

Giving up on trying to make further conversation, I decide to start preparing dinner when I realize I need to call Charlie. I told him I'd be there by now—he'll probably be worrying. I go to my room and flop onto the big soft bed, holding my phone above me to dial the familiar digits. My dad answers in his usual gruff fashion, and I can't hide my smile.

"Hi, Dad, it's me."

"Hey, Bells," he greets, his voice taking on that softer edge he seems to reserve just for me. "I was just about to call you. Where are you? You're not driving in this storm, are you?"

"Relax, Dad. I'm not on the road, but we didn't even make it out of the cabin—the stream broke its banks."

"You're staying at the Youngs' place, aren't you? Pinewood Creek Cabin?"

I look around me and stifle a snort—that this place is called a "cabin" still cracks me up. It's far bigger than any house I've ever lived in. "Yeah, that's it. We're still here."

"How are you girls holding up? You might be stuck there a few days, but I know Marina usually keeps the place pretty well-stocked."

I pause—I was never able to lie to Charlie. "Actually, Dad, the others kinda left…"

"You're there by yourself?" I can hear his keys jangling—he's probably getting ready to come rescue me right now.

"No, no…I'm not here by myself." I clear my throat. "One of the guys from the group is with me. He drove me up here—he's Alice's cousin."

I can almost hear the cogs turning in my father's head. "One of the guys?" he asks steadily. "Wait, are you there, _alone_, with a man?"

I nod, although I know he can't see me. "Yeah."

"Isabella, are you out of your mind?" Chief Swan is in full effect. "You cannot stay there, _alone_, with some strange man. That's it, I'm calling the station. I'll get the guys, and we'll come and get you. Stay put."

I close my eyes—I totally saw this coming. "Dad, come on. I'm fine. He's very…" I struggle to think of a word to describe Edward in a way my dad will be okay with "…nice."

Through the phone, I swear I hear Charlie's moustache twitch. "_Nice_, Bella?"

I trace a line on the comforter on the bed with my finger. "Yes, he's um…a doctor." There. He should be happy with that.

"A doctor?"

"Yes…"

"What kind of doctor?"

Shit, I have no idea. Someone told me once, I'm sure of it. "A…bone doctor?"

"Orthopaedist?"

That'll do. "Yeah."

"I still don't like it, Bella."

I sigh. He's probably getting Search and Rescue lined up on his cell phone as we speak. "Come on, Dad. You're being a bit ridiculous. I'm fine."

"Ridiculous?" Oops. Wrong word. "You think being concerned about your welfare makes me _ridiculous?_"

_Shit_. "Did I say that? I meant protective." I hear him breathe out in a huff. That seems to be a better word. "Really, Dad, I'm okay. There's plenty of food here, and Mrs. Young told me where to find the generator and extra fuel."

"Well…" he draws out the word "…if you say so. I know you've been plenty of places on your own, and you've always taken pretty good care of yourself in the past." He clears his throat. "And me, too, when I needed it."

I let out a breath I'm not aware of holding. "Thanks, Dad."

"You've still got that pepper spray I gave you? I want you to sleep with it under your pillow tonight."

"_Dad!_"

"Okay, okay. I just love you, Bells."

"Love you too, Dad."

"Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"I will. Bye."

"Bye."

I put my phone down on the bed next to me and cover my face with my hands. A voice from the doorway makes me jerk my head up suddenly.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just needed to call my dad. He was expecting me."

Edward leans his shoulder against the frame of the doorway. I lean back on my elbows and look at him. He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I fall back with a huff. _Now_ he's talking to me? "Are you just going to stand there all day?"

"Actually, I was going to see what you wanted for dinner."

_Sweet and sour chicken seems appropriate._

"Sorry?"

"I said, 'I don't mind.' Whatever you can find."

He crosses his arms, still leaning on the doorframe. He's wearing a t-shirt, those damn forearms on display.

_So, I'm a little worked up—it's been a while, okay? And his kisses, which I haven't had since this morning…_

He pushes off and walks down the hallway, leaving me to my own thoughts—which are loud.

I don't get it. Last night, he kissed me with so much passion that I thought my heart was going to stop. This morning before we left, he was affectionate, with little kisses on the lips and forehead and gentle caresses. Now he's all standoffish again.

Come to think of it, everything changed after we had to turn the car around.

It's probably for the best—I'm not sure that's somewhere I want to go right now. In fact, I'm _sure_ it's not. With kisses comes sex. With sex, for me anyway, comes relationships. And with relationships come cheating assholes who sleep with skanky-whore-sluts _literally_ right in front of you.

Yep. After the whole thing in Arizona, my heart's still fragile. So as frustrated as I am—there's no way I'm letting that happen again—it's best to let it go. I'm just going to enjoy the next…however long I'm here…and the beautiful cabin. Maybe I'll check out the big bookshelf in the great room.

Feeling lighter having had my epiphany, I sit up on the plush bed and take a deep breath. I hop up, heading for the kitchen. Edward is chopping something, while something else delicious-smelling simmers on the stove.

"Mmm…that smells good." My stomach growls, agreeing with me. I take a seat at the island. "Do you need a hand?"

He pauses. "I'm okay with the cooking, but maybe you could get some drinks?"

I busy myself, opening cupboards and finding glasses. "Wine okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Red or white?"

"White would be good. It'll go well with the chicken sauce for the pasta."

Placing the glasses carefully on the counter, I turn to the fridge to retrieve a cold bottle of wine. Rose rearranged the fridge yesterday, so I have to reach down to grab the bottle. Edward makes a strange noise from the other side of the kitchen, almost sounding as if he's in pain. I straighten quickly and turn around.

"Are you okay?"

He turns quickly from me and very industriously stirs the sauce. "Yeah...I…sauce. I…um…burnt my tongue tasting the sauce."

I pour a glass of wine and hand it to him. "Here, this might help."

"Help? Oh yes, the burn." He winces—it must have really hurt. "Right. Thanks."

"O-_kay_ then," I mutter—what did he think I meant? I take a sip from my own wine—which is really good—and settle myself at the island. "So, where did you learn to cook?"

He sets down his glass and fills a pot with water before placing it on the stove. "My mom. She made sure I learned the basics before I moved out to go to college. She wanted to make sure I didn't live off of ramen noodles and beer."

I giggle. For some reason, I can't see Edward being the noodles and beer type and tell him as such.

He gives me one of his uneven grins and takes some salad ingredients from the fridge. "Not really, no. I tend to prefer the finer things."

"Right. Like fancy cars and clothes."

He begins slicing a carrot. "I prefer things that are aesthetically pleasing and well-made. The car is more of a practical choice."

I think about his SUV. "It _is_ a bit of a soccer-mom car."

He pauses mid-slice. "A _soccer-mom_ car?"

"Yeah."

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, Edward, I hate to break it to you…" I lean forward and drop my voice to a conspiratorial whisper "…but it's a Volvo."

He considers me carefully. "It's the safest car on the market."

I snatch a carrot stick from the pile and take a bite, speaking between crunches. "Dude…my truck would totally crush your family mover any day."

He snorts. "Yeah, if it was dropped from a great height."

"Please."

"Bella, need I remind you that your truck is parked outside Emmett's gym—which is in Seattle?"

I reach for another carrot and yelp when he smacks my hand. "So?"

"So, it's not moving. It's not going to be crushing anything any time soon."

"But it could."

"But it won't."

A thought hits me, and I reach for my phone. "I should see if Emmett can move it for me. I don't want anything to happen to it."

"It's highly improbable that anything will happen to your truck, Bella."

"You don't know that."

"Believe me." He leans forward. "I know."

I roll my eyes. "Pfft."

Edward turns back to stove and stirs the sauce. "Oh, Alice left a bag for you. She said she was supposed to give it to you on Friday, but she forgot." He nods toward the hallway. "It's over there."

I hop down from my stool and walk over to the bag that I didn't notice earlier, crouching to unzip it. Just inside is a note, scrawled by Alice's hurried hand.

.

_B,_

_Just in case._

_A x_

_._

Instinct tells me not to remove anything from the bag, so I rifle through the fabric from my crouched position. Considering there's silk, lace, ribbons, and other textiles not usually associated with daytime outerwear, I hastily close the bag.

"I'm just going to drop this in my room," I announce over my shoulder and scamper down the hallway, not waiting for a response. Closing the door behind me and pulling out a couple of items, my initial suspicions are confirmed: Alice has included a variety of bras, panties, nightgowns—if you can call them that—and a black satin robe. _Huh. Just in case, indeed._

Shaking the thoughts of wearing this stuff _for _anyone from my head, I return to the kitchen. Edward has served up our dinner and is carrying the plates to the dining table.

"I've set up at the table in there." He nods toward the dining table. "I thought we should make the most of the fire, what with the weather still raging outside."

"Sounds good," I reply. I collect my wine glass and the bowl of salad before following him into the great room. We settle at the table opposite of each other.

Edward offers his glass toward mine. "What shall we drink to?"

I think about it for a moment. "How about we start with a nice dinner?"

"That sounds like a good place to start. Here's to you, Bella."

I clink my glass against his as his gaze fixes on me intently.

The room is briefly illuminated with a flash of lightning before a crack of thunder sounds.

Then every single light in the cabin goes out.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with me :) I've got another story in the works, and I hope to post in the coming weeks. Keep an eye out for it!

I'm not driven to post by the number of reviews I receive, but I'm being truthful when I say a little reinforcement wouldn't go astray at the moment—RL is kicking my ass. A little note to let me know you're enjoying the story would be really appreciated. Say hi on Twitter, or join the Facebook group and chat with us. fb dot com /groups/359983704096004/

**Some Recs:**

**Wicked** by **LyricalKris**: It's an oldie, but a goodie. In fact, anything by LK. **And Yet So Far** is also beautiful.

**Fan Fiction, Sex Gods and Single Girls** by **bannerday**. It's not that far-fetched. Trust me—I've had my own FFSGSG moment!


	12. Chapter 11: Beta

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own Chalky and the Bulldozer.

Thanks to TwiSNFan and Louisemc86 for pre-reading and your support. I can't thank my betas enough—mcc101180 and RaindropSoup are the reason this chapter is coming to you today. I can't stress enough how amazing they are. Thanks, ladies.

This chapter addresses a serious accident. If you're triggered by talk of serious injuries, you may want to skim.

Bigger A/N at the bottom.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**Beta** - Advice on how to successfully complete (or protect) a particular climbing route, boulder problem, or crux sequence.

Now I see him…now I don't.

The great room is plunged in darkness—the only light providing any kind of illumination comes from the glow of the fire on the other side of the room. The air in the room itself seems heavy with silence as the storm rages outside, the rain pelting solidly on the glass walls on either side of the fireplace.

My eyes gradually adjust to the darkness, and I can only just make out Edward's features across the table from me. Another flash of lightning throws light across his face, and a clap of thunder sounds, giving the impression that an invisible train is rolling over the building. I jump and give a little involuntary squeak.

"I'll find some candles." Edward rises from his seat. I gesture toward the center of the table then roll my eyes at myself. It's dark—he can't see me.

"There are already candles on the table. We just need matches."

"I think I saw some in the kitchen." An Edward-shaped shadow move across the room before stopping abruptly. "_Shit_!" he exclaims before muttering under his breath. "Why would anyone put a fucking table here?"

I stifle a giggle—it's the same one I tripped over yesterday.

He returns a few moments later. I hear the rough strike of a match, and his face comes into view, the flame causing shadows to dance across his features. He smiles, seeming triumphant that he's created fire. He sets the match to the candles on the table, and the room is instantly brighter. He looks straight at me, his lips purse, and he blows out the match.

"There," he says, settling back into his seat. "That's better."

I nod dumbly, shoveling a forkful of pasta into my mouth and taking my time chewing. The setting has become incredibly intimate.

"So…" he takes a sip of his wine "…you've never really told me. What is it you do?"

I swallow my food. "I work with Alice at _the_ _Times_. I write for the Outdoors section."

"Ah, yes," he comments, spearing a piece of penne with his fork. "I knew you worked with Alice, but I wasn't sure which job it was—she has a few."

"Yeah, that's why we came here. I'm writing a feature on trips with groups."

He chuckles. "Well, at least you got a day's worth out of it. I mean, it seems like more of a 'couples' thing now, doesn't it?" My eyes flash up from my plate to look at him. He drops his fork. "I mean, not that we're a couple. There's just the two of us…er…we're the only two here. The group left."

I smile down at my plate and am glad for the warm glow from the candles to hide my blush. "Yeah."

He clears his throat. "So, will this"—he waves toward the glass window, indicating the storm that's raging outside— "affect your article?"

I shake my head slowly. "I don't think so. I mean, I can still write about what we did yesterday and can comment on the cabin and the region in general."

He nods as he continues eating. I take another bite. "This is really good," I tell him.

He grins in reply. "Have you worked with other newspapers?"

"No, this is my first real one." I have a sip of my wine before I continue. "I used to write for my college paper in Arizona, and I've done some freelance in the last few years."

"Anything I might have read?"

I think for a moment—I'm not sure what he reads. I start with the most recent article I had published. "I had a piece in _Outdoor_ a few months back. It was about climbing at Yosemite."

"Free solo?"

I'm slightly surprised that he knows it. "Yes…you read it?"

He stiffens in his chair. "I did. More wine?"

I nod and hand him my glass. He pours without a word or making eye contact. Things seem to have become a little awkward, so I move the topic away from me. "You're a doctor, right?"

He rolls his glass delicately between his fingers. "Yes, Orthopedics."

"Surgery?"

"Some," he replies. "Not as much as I used to. I no longer work full time at the hospital— just the odd elective surgery here and there. Nothing too major. I mostly do consulting work."

I find myself looking at his hands. His fingers, long and slender, artfully twist the stem of his wine glass. Even if he hasn't operated on anyone in a while, his fingers move skillfully. He becomes aware of my gaze and shifts his hands under the table.

A thought comes to me, and I wouldn't be surprised if a little animated light bulb appears above my head. "Wait, are you related to the Dr. Cullen that works in the emergency room of the hospital you took me to?"

He nods, bringing one hand back out to take his wine glass again. "Yes, that's my father—Carlisle. He's head of the Emergency Department."

"Wow," I mutter. "What does your mom do?"

Edward smiles, and a peaceful look crosses his face. "She's trained as an interior designer, but she doesn't work full time anymore. She prefers to do the odd project for people she knows or to tackle things that really appeal to her. She also works with some charity organizations—benefits and the like for the hospital mostly." His voice is warm with pride as he speaks of his mother. "What about your parents?"

"My dad lives in Forks, which you know. He's the Chief of Police there."

"Police?" Edward sits a little straighter in his chair. I swallow a giggle…talk of my dad's profession usually garners that reaction.

"Yeah." I stare off into space a little as I remember when I lived with both of my parents—before my mom and I moved to Arizona. "When I was little, he used to clean his service revolver at the kitchen table, but he always locked the bullets away. It goes without saying that I grew up with a healthy respect for the law." I scoop up the last of my dinner onto my fork and pop it into my mouth. After swallowing, I set down my fork. "Thanks for dinner. It was delicious."

Edward shakes his head slightly and takes a sip of his wine. "No problem."

I rise and grab my plate before reaching for his. "What are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm cleaning up," I tell him, taking his plate and stacking it on mine. "You cooked. I clean up."

"Only if you let me dry."

I smile. "Sure." I walk toward the kitchen—carefully avoiding the shin-destroying lamp table—and place the plates on the island. The room is still dark, but it gradually becomes lighter as Edward enters with a candle.

We clean up in companionable silence, neither of us feeling the need to talk. The cabin still has its cozy vibe, but it's slightly spookier with the storm raging beyond the walls.

Once everything is washed, dried, and put away, I turn to Edward. "So, what now?"

"Hmm," he says, lifting a finger and pressing it to his bottom lip. "The power is off, so no TV. We never did get to play that game of Scrabble."

I shrug. "Scrabble it is, then."

I follow him back to the great room, collecting my half-full wine glass from the dining table on the way. Edward grabs the Scrabble box from somewhere and sits before the fire. I sit opposite him, feeling the blaze of the fire warm my body—I hadn't realized how cold the rest of the house had become.

We collect our tiles, and I stack mine in front of me on the tiny shelf. I'm already getting a few ideas for words and grin as I take a sip of my wine.

Edward holds out a velvet bag, shaking the remaining letters. "Ladies first," he says, holding the bag out to me. I dig my hand in and pull out a G. He does the same and holds up a C.

"Your turn, Dr. Cullen."

He looks serious for a moment before putting down HALF.

I smile teasingly. "That's all you got?"

He shrugs in response. "Shitty letters" is all he says.

I play LETTER off his L. "Nice," he says, taking down my score.

"Would you like some more wine?" I ask, realizing my glass is almost empty. We left the bottle on the dining table.

"Sure," he says without looking up.

"Don't look at my letters," I warn him, hopping to my feet. I collect the bottle and sit down. He's played TRY off one of my Ts. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Really shitty letters."

We play back and forth, the conversation mainly staying on the game, or comments about the state of our tiles. As I drink more, I become a bit…brazen—and I'm finding it rather hilarious.

"Miss Swan..." he says in a low voice. The tone of it tells me he's enjoying his wine, too.

"What? It's another name for rooster."

He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. The wine seems to have made him flushed—I know I'm feeling pretty warm. He reaches toward the board, placing tiles down. When he sits back, I burst out laughing.

"Really?"

"What?" he asks, mocking me. "It's just another word for donkey."

Still cackling, I place down another word. His breath catches, and he stares at me—his green eyes blazing. I look at him coyly, having no idea where my bravery—or dirty mind—has come from.

"Another word for kitte—"

He cuts me off with a finger to my lips. My breath catches and my heart pounds at the contact. With his free hand, he reaches down to grab three tiles. He uses the U in my previous word. He adds the F then the C. Before the last tile hits the board, he reaches behind my neck and pulls me close to him, his forehead pressed to mine.

"Fuck," he gasps.

"Yeah, I can read." I push up onto my knees and throw my arms around his neck. I may have a Scrabble tile sticking into my kneecap, but I barely notice—all I'm aware of is Edward's lips planted firmly against mine, his fingers in my hair, and our bodies pressed together. All my earlier thoughts of walking away are still there, quietly tap, tap, tapping at my brain. I silently tell them to shut up and kiss him harder.

Edward's thoughts seem to mirror mine—he runs his hands down my sides and around to cup my ass. He gives both cheeks a gentle squeeze before moving one hand up behind my neck, pulling me even closer. Suddenly, Scrabble tiles fly everywhere, and I'm lifted into the air before my back hits the soft rug. Edward cradles my body to cushion the impact. My shirt has ridden up, and the fuzzy rug tickles the exposed bare skin of my lower back.

His lips are insistent, and he tastes sweet from the wine. He holds his body up on his forearms. His chest is just a hair's breadth from mine. I let my legs fall open, and he hovers, hovers, hovers. The smallest of gaps exists between the line of our bodies; the air heats and hums. It's almost as if he knows what will happen if he lets his body come into full contact with mine—there'd be no turning back.

His mouth moves to just below my jaw, and he nudges my head back with his lips, exposing my throat. I gasp as he trails kisses down the column of my neck and back up again, pressing gentle kisses in the hollow beneath my ear. I arch farther in an attempt to give him better access. He runs another hand up my body, gently pushing my chin back to face him. He gazes at me intently, and I stare back at him. Something in his eyes glints before he takes my mouth with his again.

I reach into his hair and rub the strands between my fingers, and he makes a guttural sound that sends shivers through my whole body. I squirm in an attempt to quell the heated buzz, but I only get temporary relief. Edward, seemingly sensing my pleasant discomfort, strokes a hand along my side, ghosting the outside of my breast ever so slightly. The goose bumps that have been threatening beneath the surface burst on my skin.

Before I can hook my ankles around him and draw him closer, he pulls away, breathing heavily. He sits back on his knees, and his chest heaves with each breath. He maintains contact with me though, keeping his hands on my shins.

I prop myself up on my elbows. "Edward?"

He drops his head. "I'm sorry, I gotta stop—"

"Stop what exactly?" I wriggle into a seated position. "Stop kissing me?"

He shakes his head back and forth. "I…all of it."

I fall back onto the rug, placing my hands over my face. "Fuck, Edward. This is unfair."

He drops his head farther. "I know," he says quietly.

"Hey." I prop myself up onto one hand and reach for his chin with the other. His green eyes meet mine. "What is it? Why do you keep pulling away?"

He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose. "None of this is fair to you."

Okay, now I'm really confused. "You know what's unfair? You, getting me all worked up…then walking away. That's _really_ unfair." I try to inject a teasing note into my voice. In spite of himself, Edward's eyes crinkle slightly at the edges, and the corner of his mouth bends into his signature smirk. I smile at him genuinely in return. "Really, you can talk to me."

He closes his eyes for a moment, and I can see flashes of some kind of torment flicker across his face. He breathes deeply again before staring right at me.

"I want to," he says earnestly. "Believe me, Bella. I really do want to."

My voice sounds breathy when I take in his disappointed, serious expression. He looks as though he's a child staring in the window of a toy store and has been told he may not enter. "Oh, Edward," I whisper. "What happened to you?"

"It wasn't me," he answers quickly. "Nothing happened to me."

"Then why are you like this? Why do you pull away?" I shift onto my knees so I'm closer to his eye level. "I don't understand it. You're usually so confident, but at the cliff—something shook you up. And then this morning you were so sweet, but then the car…I don't know. You just seemed…" I look for the right word "…spooked."

He chuckles, but there's no humor in it. "Spooked," he echoes. "That's a good term for it."

I reach up and skim my fingers through his hair—partially because he seemed to like it, and mostly because I just can't resist. "I want to know. And I won't run—I promise."

"You say that now. God, Bella. When you know…you'll never want anything to do with me again. And I can't…" he leans his head into mine, just like at the cliff "…the risk is too high."

My brow furrows. "The risk of what?"

"Of you." He closes his eyes, longer than a blink, less than two. "The risk of liking you, of having more with you." His tone is serious. "Of anything happening to you."

My breath gets stuck in my throat, and I force air into my lungs. "Me? I'm a risk?"

"The biggest," he says earnestly. "You intrigue me, Bella. From the moment I first saw you—okay, I know you thought I was an asshole, but I couldn't figure you out. And I found myself wanting to…so much."

I roll my eyes. "The first time you saw me, I was crawling around on the floor."

He gives me a small smile. "True. But you were like a ball of fire, and I could tell you wouldn't take any of my shit." He sighs and looks somewhere over my head. "So many women let me get away with it…but not you. You called me out." He smirks, his green eyes twinkling as he gazes at me. "I knew you were different."

"That doesn't tell me anything about why…"

"It does. Or, it will make more sense the more you know."

Okay, now I'm just confused. "I want to know."

"I'm not a risk taker," he blurts out. "I used to be, but now I can't...I'm careful. I do a mental risk assessment in my head before I do _anything_. Especially before I make any decisions that could affect my life—or the life of someone else. I have to be careful before I attempt anything."

"What kind of things?"

He answers quickly. "Anything. Everything. Driving." He stares at me intently. "Especially things like rock climbing."

Now it feels like we're getting somewhere. "You can trust me. I mean, I don't know what sort of risk I'd be—"

"Don't you get it? You're the biggest risk of all."

I hold my breath for a beat at his declaration. I've never thought of myself as any kind of danger. I'm not—I'm just Bella.

"How am I a risk?"

"You make me question."

"Question what?"

"Everything."

"Please tell me?"

He takes a deep breath. "Okay. But in advance, I'm sorry."

"What for now?"

"Like I said, when I tell you, you'll find out the kind of person I really am."

I can't imagine what might have happened for Edward to think himself so…liable. I shuffle in my spot to get comfortable; I get the suspicion this isn't going to be a short story. Before I can move too far, Edward reaches out to grab my hand. I glance at where our hands are joined before turning my gaze to his face.

"Do you mind?" he asks tentatively. "I just…I feel calmer when I'm touching you."

I can only nod in reply. Stroking his fingers gently, I try to reassure him. "Take your time."

He takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

"I used to be a bit of—how to put it?—a daredevil? I threw caution to the wind and all that shit. When I was young, school came easy to me. Don't get me wrong—I studied hard, but it wasn't as difficult for me as some of the other kids in my classes. Anyway, my dad was a doctor and I really looked up to him. I wanted to do what he did—fix people, save their lives, and put them back together.

"I didn't have lots of friends in high school. I mean, I had a few, and I played baseball so I had some friends through that. But I was always part of a larger group, and that suited me.

"When I got to college, I ended up being buddies with my roommate, Garrett. He was similar to me—he was cocky as all hell, he liked the girls, and he lived on the edge. We just clicked, and it wasn't long before we were hanging out together. He'd been talking about studying law further down the track, and I had my heart set on medicine." He shifts his position, a hint of a smile appearing at his lips.

"After a few beers one night, we decided to try something different. We opened the handbook that talks about the kinds of clubs and societies that UDub had to offer, waved our fingers in the air, and picked the first one we hit. It was the rock climbing club.

"It seemed a little crazy, but we thought 'what the hell?' It sounded like fun. We both loved the outdoors, and we were keen to try something new. He was a city boy—he grew up in LA—and had never tried anything like that before. I'd done a little here and there, mostly through school trips to Rainier and stuff. But it was never anything like what the climbing club did. We did a few outdoor trips with them, and before we knew it, we were hooked."

"It didn't take long for us to buy a rack* between us and start looking further afield. Garrett wanted to try ice climbing, but it always seemed a little too serious for my liking."

Edward stops and takes a deep breath. I squeeze his hand encouragingly, and he continues.

"Anyway, we started doing some trips. We met Jasper through Alice—they were together at that point—and Jasper introduced us to his sister and Emmett. It was about the time Emmett was thinking of going out on his own—he'd been working at another gym and thought they were going too 'corporate.'"

I grin. That sounds exactly like Emmett.

"So Emmett bought the gym and I helped set it up. So did Garrett—to a degree—but he said he still would rather go outdoors. Indoor was too 'safe' for him." Edward shudders then regains his composure.

"Over the years, Garrett settled down a little. He met a nice girl, got married, and they had a child together. I thought he'd gotten the crazy shit out of his system, but settling down seemed to make it worse. I mean, he had a wife and kid—shouldn't he want to be extra careful?" Edward shakes his head and looks down at our joined hands. "It was almost like he tried to find even more dangerous shit to try. His wife bought him skydiving lessons, thinking at least that was controlled. But it wasn't enough—he always wanted more. He'd turned into a total adrenaline junky."

Edward pauses, takes a deep breath and runs a hand roughly through his hair. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. It's as if the words are physically difficult to get out.

"One Saturday morning, about three years ago, Garrett called me up to go on a weekender. I'd been doing some crazy hours at the hospital—I was doing my residency in Orthopedics—and I was tired. I missed hanging out, though, and agreed to go along.

"We had a great, regular afternoon climbing at Rainier. No risky shit, and I thought 'I've got my friend back.' We had a few beers around the campfire—possibly a few too many—and I ended up passing out. The late nights had caught up with me.

"The next morning, Garrett woke me up, ready and raring to go. He kept hassling me to go for an early climb, and I told him to fuck off and fell back asleep. When I woke up much later, Garrett wasn't in his tent or even at the campsite—he was gone. I wandered down to the crag—which wasn't too far away—and found him halfway up this climb." He laughs once, but it's dry and completely lacking humor. "He'd ticked that climb three times the day before until he cleaned it."

He pauses, and my stomach drops. I think I know where this is going but need to ask anyway. "Edward, was anyone else on the trip with you?"

Edward's eyes are closed, and he shakes his head. He takes in a shuddering breath. "No."

"So, when Garrett did that climb again…"

Edward looks up to meet my eyes intently. "Solo."

"Gear?" I ask. He shakes his head seriously.

"Free solo." I breathe the words and feel my heart start to pound. I grip Edward's hands tighter, both for his benefit and mine.

"About three quarters of the way up, there was this big move. It was hard enough when you had protection, but…" He trails off, closing his eyes before he continues. "I guess it was a combination of things. I slept late so I wasn't there to go with him. He might have been a bit dehydrated, because when he went for it…he missed."

I feel my own heart clench and something rise in my throat. Edward squeezes his eyes tighter, and it's as if he's trying to close his eyes from the images that play behind his eyelids. I know how that feels—there are some things you can never unsee.

"He just fell. It's like he fell forever. On the way down, he grazed the wall and ended up inverted. He didn't even scream. It was absolutely silent, except for when he decked."

I retrieve one hand to wipe a tear that is rolling down my cheek. Edward inhales shakily before he speaks. "I thought he was dead. I thought for sure, he was fucking dead. I ran over—I scratched the fuck out of my legs on the way—but he was still breathing. I couldn't be sure that he hadn't sustained a spinal injury so couldn't move him. My phone had no service, so I had to leave and hope like fuck he wouldn't die while I was away."

Edward's breathing is coming in heavy pants. His eyes are open and distant—it's almost as if he's there, standing at the base of a cliff, seeing things that I could only imagine.

"I called for EVAC, and a helicopter lifted us out. He ended up with broken ribs, a collapsed lung, a brachial plexus injury, and a minor head injury. Because of the way he fell, he didn't break his neck or damage his spinal cord, but he completely fucked up the nerves that ran from his neck to his right arm. He lost the use of his right arm as a result."

"But he didn't die."

Edward shakes his head. When he speaks, the words are bitter. "No, he didn't die. But he may as well have. He forgets things minutes after you've told him. He's angry and hates the world." He looks down at our hands and runs a thumb across the back of my knuckles. "He hates me."

"Edward, I don't think—"

"Don't you see, Bella? It was my fault. He was my friend, my climbing partner. You don't leave your partner. You sure as hell don't let them deck."

I shake my head emphatically. "The game's risky. We all know there's risk, but we do it anyway. You just need to weigh it up and trust your gear—"

"He trusted me!" The sudden rise in his voice causes me to jump. He stares at me intensely, and I see a range of emotions flicker across his face. Fear. Anger. Self-loathing.

Guilt.

I don't think. I only throw my arms around him, pulling his head into my shoulder. I let my fingers run through his hair as his body trembles. "It wasn't your fault."

"I—"

"Edward, really. It wasn't your fault. You can't trust your gear if there isn't any. You can't rely on your partner if you don't take one with you. These were his choices—you have to believe that."

The man in my arms breathes heavily, his whole body collapsing into mine. I hold this broken, blame-filled man close to me and repeat the words over and over.

"You are not to blame. It wasn't your fault."

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter was a particularly difficult one to write. Garrett's injury—a complete brachial plexus lesion—is pretty awful. While the limb remains, in some cases (such as Garrett's) it's pretty much useless. In this instance, we're talking total loss of sensory and motor abilities. Eventually, the muscles in the limb waste away and the limb becomes clawed. In addition, as with any serious injury, there is a psychological component. A trauma of this nature affects not only the injured person, but their entire family.

On a personal note, I can't begin to say how very grateful I am for each and every one of you. Your reviews, tweets, and general love during a particularly tough week really helped me get through it. I'm happy to say that although things aren't "fixed," I'm getting my mojo back. **Special thanks to the Bulldozer Babes**—you're such a sweet group of ladies, and I'm so, _so_ thankful for your support.

**Some definitions:**

Rack - The set of equipment carried up a climb; also, the part of a harness (consisting of several plastic loops) where equipment is hung, ready to be used.

Deck - (n) The ground; (v) To hit the ground, usually the outcome of a fall.

**Some Recs:**

While I was wallowing, it seemed fitting to read some old-school angst. In this case, it was **Wide Awake.** I blame Louisemc86.

**Changing my Course** by **Twilover76**: Twilover76 is a popular author, and there's a reason for that—she writes really great fic. This one is an Actorward. _Sigh_.

**Quarterback Sneak** by **jayhawkbb:** Late to jump on this one, but you _know_ I love me a sportsward. This one is super-sweet, and Bella? She has me laughing out loud non-stop. She's got just the right amount of snark.


	13. Chapter 12: Bivy Bag

**A/N: **Thanks to my pre-readers: TwiSNFan, Louisemc86. I love your squees (is that a word? Ugh, it is now). I can never thank my betas enough—mcc101180, I love you for introducing me to the em dash. RaindropSoup, I adore you and what your blue bubbles teach me.

To my readers: Your response to the last chapter was overwhelming. I did not get the chance to reply to everybody's reviews, but…wow. Edward makes a bit more sense now, huh ;) I love all of you more than naughty Scrabble words.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own this bit of fluff n' nonsense.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**Bivy Bag** - A lightweight garment or sack offering protection from the wind and rain.

I don't know how long we've been sitting here in front of the fire, Edward with his head buried in my neck, and me trying to offer soothing words of comfort. All I know is that it's long enough that my feet have become numb and fallen asleep.

"Edward?" I pull away from him. "Are you okay?"

His eyes don't meet mine when he nods. His posture has changed—his shoulders have dropped, and the stiff line of his neck has softened. He still holds himself as I saw him initially—strong and confident—but something has changed. He seems…relaxed.

The grandfather clock in the great room chimes, and I realize how late it is. "We probably should get some sleep. Hopefully the rain will ease overnight, and we can get out tomorrow."

Edward draws back from me, still keeping contact. His eyes meet mine, and his voice is barely above a whisper. "Yeah."

I tilt my head to the side, taking in his slightly guarded expression. "Honestly, you're okay?"

He nods again, and this time, a gentle smile touches the corner of his mouth. "You're the first person I've told…well, all of it."

I let the weight of his words settle on me for a moment, feeling the significance of his confession. "Really?"

"Yes. I have to admit I feel a little…lighter. Exhausted but lighter."

"Thank you," I say genuinely, because I'm truly flattered. "I'm glad you felt you could trust me."

"Do you think it's strange?" he asks, looking at me from beneath his lashes. "I mean, we hardly know each other. Most times we've met, we've…clashed. And I've just completely unloaded on to you."

I chuckle. "Clashed…that's a good word for it." I place my hand tentatively on his cheek, and he softens at the contact. "But I don't think it's strange. I mean, it doesn't _feel_ strange." I lower my eyes for a moment, shyness suddenly overcoming me. "Sometimes you frustrate me to no end, but yeah…" I look up again, staring into his deep green eyes. "I like being near you."

Then he wraps me in his arms, and our position from a few moments ago is reversed. I burrow into him, just enjoying the feeling of warmth and, to a degree, security. Then slight panic creeps in—I can't help it. It's scary to feel this way. I push the feeling away and just enjoy the sense of being held.

He pulls back and strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. "So…sleep?"

I nod and let him help pull me to my feet. He holds me close while I cringe as the blood rushes into my numb feet, and he chuckles as I whine when I shake them out. After checking the fire, he collects two candles from the dining table and leads me down the hallway to our bedrooms. He pauses outside my door and hands me a candle. With his now-free hand, he caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers. He kisses me softly then touches his nose to mine.

"Goodnight, Bella."

I don't even try to hide my smile. "Goodnight, Edward."

I sneak into my bedroom, closing the door with a quiet click behind me, and set down the candle. The room is now dimly lit, the flame wavering slightly. After brushing my teeth and pulling on pajama pants and a t-shirt, I blow out the candle and snuggle deep under the covers, listening to the sound of the wind wailing outside.

As the storm batters the house rather violently, I think about how difficult it must have been for Edward to share with me what happened. The impact of Garrett's fall still has an effect on Edward to this very day—it's obvious that he blames himself, but he seems to have changed his entire life as a result. He doesn't trust anyone, or anything.

I can't help but draw comparisons between Edward's situation and my own. He doesn't trust anything as a result of what he thought were his actions—I don't trust anyone because of mine.

His reaction to my fall the other day suddenly makes sense, although the context was different from Garrett's situation. I wasn't going to deck. I guess he didn't think Garrett would either.

I roll over in my bed, wrapping the covers tighter around me, as the wind outside causes the trees by the cabin to scrape ear-piercingly against the glass of my bedroom windows. Although the storm is wailing outside and I'm safe in the cabin, I try to bite back the fear that is creeping through my body. Normally I love a storm, but this one seems particularly fierce.

Lightning continues to sporadically illuminate my room. It's a vast contrast to the soft light of daylight that caressed the soft surfaces of the bedroom in the morning—this comes in violent bursts and harshly throws menacing shadows across the room.

Somewhere outside the house, I hear a large crack and can't hold in the squeak that makes its way out of my mouth. I huddle deeper, wrapping the quilt around my head. The central heating went off with the power, and I completely forgot to suggest firing up the generator.

I shiver and clench my eyes shut—it doesn't stop red spots from appearing behind my eyelids with each flash of lightning that breaks through the darkness of the room.

An especially loud howl of wind rattles the house, and a large crash and sudden rush of cold, damp air causes my eyes to fly open. I scream at the top of my lungs as the branch that has been scraping at the glass comes crashing through the window.

The storm that has been buffeting the outside of the house is now blasting at full force throughout my once-serene bedroom. I let out another scream as leaves blow all around the room, and spray from the rain douses every surface.

When strong arms wrap around me and a calm voice murmurs in my ear, I don't think twice. I snuggle deep into the solid, bare chest as Edward's soothing voice tells me I'm safe. In an instant, I'm pulled from the now damp blankets and whisked from the room.

As soon as we're into the hallway and my bedroom door is shut, I feel his earnest gaze on me and his fingers in my hair. "Bella, are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?"

I shake my head wordlessly, and he seems to understand. He crosses the hall in a few strides, taking me into the candle-lit room where, even after just a few days, his heady scent is strongest. He sets me down on the edge of the bed and tells me to stay put. Without thinking, I dive under the covers and inhale the scent of his pillow.

It's always safer under the covers, right?

Peeking out from my hiding place, I see Edward pull on a pair of shoes and a t-shirt and leave the room, shutting the door behind him. From my place in his bed, I start to chew on my already-blunt fingernails—the wind is less violent on this side of the house. I hear scraping and more banging—rhythmic this time. Too anxious to stay by myself anymore, I creep from the bed, carefully open the door, and hurry down the hall to the kitchen.

The cabin is silent except for the continual whooshing of the wind and the rhythmic tapping. Suddenly the tapping stops, and the external door flies open, bringing with it a burst of cold air, leaves, and other debris. Edward hurries in, slamming the door behind him.

I take in his appearance for an instant before swinging into action, rushing toward him. "My God! You're completely soaked!"

Edward shivers in response, and I pull him to his room. Once we're there, I quickly grab some towels from the bathroom and wrap one around him, handing him another for him to dry his hair.

"Are you okay? I mean, apart from being soaked to the skin."

He nods. "It's fucking freezing out there." He reaches up to scrub his damp hair with the towel, and I try not to look at the way his wet t-shirt clings to every visible muscle of his torso. I feel my face redden further as he reaches behind his neck with one hand and pulls his shirt over his head, looking like a clichéd Greek god.

_How do guys _do _that?_

"Um, you probably won't be able to sleep in your room tonight. It's pretty much trashed." He gives his hair another rub with the towel, causing his chest and abdominal muscles to ripple in delicious ways. "I boarded up the window, but the branch that came through did some damage." He opens the bedroom door and disappears for a moment, returning with two duffel bags.

The black duffel I brought with me is torn, and the clothes that are falling out of it are damp, dirty, and covered in twigs and wet leaves. The bag Alice sent is completely unscathed.

_Fucking typical._

I wrap my arms tighter around myself and walk toward him. "I'll take one of the rooms upstairs." I reach for my bags, but he places a hand on my arm, stopping me.

"The storm is really bad, and I don't feel good about letting you sleep upstairs. I don't think it's safe." He tosses the towel in the hamper in the corner. "I'll go."

My jaw drops. "You just said it wasn't safe, and you're going?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, well…"

I scoff. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll take the couch out there." I indicate vaguely toward the direction of the great room.

"Bella," he says, rolling his eyes. "It's freezing out there, even with the fire going."

"I'll take a blanket," I tell him, reaching again for the bags. My duffel is completely sodden, and it weighs a ton. "I'll be okay."

"Wait," he says, his voice serious. "You could stay here. I mean, if you like." He runs a hand through his semi-dried hair. "It's a big bed, and I promise I won't try anything…"

Part of my physical-attention-deprived mind wishes he would and goes places it probably shouldn't. I try to shake the feeling from my brain; instead it shimmies down my spine, causing my body to react. I cross my arms firmly across my chest.

"Okay."

"Okay," he replies. "I'll just…" He hooks his thumb toward the bathroom and grabs some clothes from the bag situated on the chair in the corner of the room. Once he is safely in the bathroom, I sprint back to the bed and leap into it, pulling the covers up to my chin.

A few moments later, he reappears wearing a black t-shirt and a fresh pair of lounge pants. The other side of the bed drops, and I feel the presence of Edward's body under the covers. I squirm farther into the bed, under the pretense of seeking warmth when in truth, I feel plenty warm enough right now.

With the sound of a breath of air, the candle is out, and the room is dark. I lie incredibly still, feeling a current hum through the room not caused by the electrical storm outside.

"Goodnight, Bella…again."

I smile into the darkness and roll away from him. "Goodnight, Edward."

-~[YD]~-

When I open my eyes, the first sound I hear is the steady rain hitting the porch outside. The wailing winds have died down, and there's no thunder. When I listen a little more carefully, I hear the sound of calm, even breathing.

I relish in the warmth of the bed and snuggle farther into the arms that circle me. The body pressed into my back groans and shifts in response, and I feel a firm length push against the base of my spine. I stiffen—and I'm fully aware that I'm not the only one in that state this morning.

"Mmmmm…"

I gasp and bite down on my lip to prevent myself from returning the sentiment. I'm not sure Edward is aware of what he's doing.

"God…"

He presses harder, and I involuntarily arch my back slightly. I close my eyes and sink farther into him.

"Bella…so fucking beautiful."

I can't hold in the breathy, shaky sigh that escapes my lips as the arms grip me tighter. My body can't help but writhe a little in response.

"Edward…"

"Bella?" Suddenly, his voice is more alert.

I twist my head to look into his eyes, which are wide and slightly shocked. He leaps away from me—well, as much as he can given the confines of the bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…_dammit. _God, that was totally inappropriate."

I roll toward him, tucking the covers under my chin. In the light of the morning, without the haze of candlelight and wine to hide behind, I feel exposed. "It's okay," I respond in a small voice. "You were asleep."

"Wow," he says with a breath, reaching a hand up to brush a lock of hair out of my eyes. "You look especially beautiful this morning."

I blush and drop my eyes, aware of the fact that my hair will be frizzy as anything, given the damp air that blew into my bedroom last night. I probably have dark circles and puffy eyes, too, due to disrupted sleep, but Edward stares at me intently regardless.

I surreptitiously wipe at my chin in case I've drooled on my pillow and tuck my hands under my cheek, returning his gaze. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I did. Better than I have in a long time." He grins sleepily at me. "You?"

I smile. "Yeah."

He reaches out again to gently stroke my cheek with the back of his fingers. I sigh contentedly before speaking. "Thanks for last night. I mean, for telling me."

A small pucker forms on his brow before quickly fading. "Thanks for listening." He blows out a breath. "You're still here."

I smile back at him. "I'm still here."

Morning breath be damned, because I really want to kiss him. It appears he feels the same because he shifts closer to me and gently places a soft kiss to my lips.

I smile dreamily—I could get used to this.

"You don't think less of me?" Edward's voice, and his brow, is etched with concern.

"Hey." I reach up to smooth the lines away. "I told you—it's not your fault." I consider my next words carefully. "Have you…spoken…to anyone about it? Since it happened?"

He exhales through his nose, pondering my question. "I talked to my mom."

"Anyone else?" I press gently.

He shakes his head, confirming what I thought. "No. Not a…" The words catch in his throat, as if it's difficult to say. "Professional."

I take his hand gently and hold it on the mattress between us. "Do you think it'd help?"

He looks bitter for a moment. "It'd help me look crazy."

Shaking my head as much as I can with my cheek pressed to my pillow, I stroke his fingers. "I don't think it would. I mean, it might be good. You said your life has changed…do you ever feel like you're missing out on anything?"

He goes quiet, and he really seems to be considering my words. From where I'm standing, it seems that Edward's life has changed considerably since Garrett's accident. The way he practices medicine, the way he interprets events, and the fact that he gave up something he loved doing are all evidence of how different things seem to be.

Edward's voice breaks our contemplative silence. "I nearly didn't come on this trip."

"That's unsurprising."

"I came because…" he swallows before continuing "…I wanted to make sure you stayed safe. I really was terrified you'd be hurt on that climb."

This comes as a bit of a shock, because until meeting up with him in the foyer of Emmett's gym, I hadn't been aware he was coming. I open my mouth to say so, but he continues.

"I knew you couldn't stand me, but for some reason…" he looks at me steadily "…I feel very protective of you."

I raise my eyebrows. The only one who's ever wanted to protect me was Charlie, and he did it fiercely—with the threat of firearms when he felt necessary. Tyler pretty much let me go—since I was one of the guys. And Jake…well, his theory was "she'll bounce."

Edward takes a deep breath, and his next words come out in a rush. "Then there was losing control of the car, and a branch through your bedroom window? Really, Bella…is _everything_ out to get you?"

I pull the inside of my lip between my teeth. "I guess I do have pretty shitty luck, don't I?"

He shifts nearer, sliding his hand around my waist and drawing me closer. "I guess I better not let you out of my sight."

I squeak as he buries his lips into my neck, his scruff tickling my skin. When his fingers brush on the sensitive skin of the side of my stomach, I can't hold in the peal of giggles that bubbles from my throat.

"Bella," he says slowly, intriguingly. "Are you ticklish?"

I shake my head, trying to keep the evidence of the lie from my voice. "No?"

His fingers tease a little more. "No?"

My head-shaking becomes a little more desperate, but I'm unable to get the word out.

"Hmm." He props up on one elbow, cocking his head to the side. "Then you won't mind if I do…this!"

Without warning, his fingers become more insistent, wiggling and tickling the bare skin between my pajama pants and t-shirt. I screw my eyes shut and laugh until I'm almost hyperventilating. I beg for mercy, and he stops under the threat that I haven't yet used the bathroom. When he draws back at me, his face is slightly flushed and his eyes are bright.

"How do you do it?" he asks when my giggles die down.

"Do what?" I ask, my voice still breathy with the remnants of laughter.

"You make me forget." He grins, and it's the first time I've seen him completely at ease. "You make me relax."

I feel my face mirror his smile, and my body feels warm all over. I squirm a little, which reminds me…

"I'll be back in a minute."

Edward rolls away from me with a smirk. He pulls himself into a seated position and leans back against the headboard, one hand placed behind his head, the picture of ease.

I duck into the bathroom, grabbing my toiletry bag on the way. My reflection greets me with a wide grin, brown eyes as bright as the green ones beyond the door.

After freshening up, I open the bathroom door, peeking out shyly. Edward is still reclined on the bed, reading something on his phone. He's pulled on a pair of black, square-framed glasses, and he offers me a wide grin when I emerge. He pats the bed next to him, and it almost stops me in my tracks. Somehow I find my feet and continue walking, trying my best to not look completely awkward as I make my way back to him.

I clamber back onto the bed, suddenly feeling very exposed. Edward extends his arms, and I let myself be wrapped up. I feel a little uncomfortable and am suddenly aware of tension in my shoulders.

To be welcomed with open arms by anyone other than family or friends is a foreign concept. My only real benchmark is Tyler, and he wasn't particularly affectionate. Our relationship just wasn't like that.

Seeming to sense my discomfort, Edward rubs a hand up and down my bare arm, giving me goose bumps in the process. "Everything okay?" he asks, removing his glasses and setting them down on the nightstand.

"Yeah, I just…" I exhale and decide to cut to the chase. "What are we doing?"

He absently strokes my arm, pausing for a moment. "I think I'd like to see where things go." He looks down at me, tilting my chin so I can meet his eyes. "I don't normally take risks, but…" His expression turns serious, yet apprehensive. "I think you'd be worth it."

My face breaks into a slow grin as my heart simultaneously clenches. I take a breath and swallow the rising fear that irrationally creeps its way up my throat. "I'd like to see, too."

"Take things slow?" he asks, his voice still holding a little of his earlier apprehension. I sense he is really putting himself out on a limb here. So am I.

I nod, and he smiles back, leaning down to kiss my upturned lips.

-~[YD]~-

We spend the morning talking before getting ready for the day. A quick check of the weather forecast on my phone tells me we're looking at another day of steady rain—at least. Edward drove to the bridge, only to return and announce that the creek is still flooded. Charlie called to check in, again offering the services of Search and Rescue, but seemed satisfied that I was capable of speaking and that I sounded lucid.

_Seriously, Charlie. Do you think I've been drugged and held against my will?_

Actually…

With plenty of time to kill in the afternoon, things become quite domesticated. Edward gets the generator running, and I put my bagful of rain-soaked laundry through the washer and dryer after carefully removing the broken glass left by the smashed window. I needed to discard a few items that were packed on top that didn't survive the attack by tree branch, which sadly included two of my favorite t-shirts. The duffel itself was unsalvageable, having had a tree branch tear through it after coming through the window. My black duffel now sits forlornly next to the trash can in the kitchen.

"Something smells great," says Edward, coming in from the direction of the great room. He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder, reaching forward to snatch a piece of tomato.

"It's the bread," I tell him, indicating toward the oven with a nod of my head.

"Mmm, I don't think so," he says huskily, trailing his nose up and down the column of my neck. "I think it's you."

I shiver and let out a little involuntary whimper. He chuckles, taking another piece of tomato, and settles into a stool at the island opposite of me.

"Something got you rattled, Swan?" he asks cockily, tilting his head to one side and smirking at my flushed face.

"_No_," I reply haughtily before muttering under my breath. "Stupid, teasing Bulldozer."

"What does that mean, anyway?" he asks, hopping up from his stool and heading for the fridge. He grabs two beer bottles and holds one up, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I nod in reply and continue cutting. He returns to the stool and opens a bottle for me, sliding it in front of the chopping board. "What does what mean?" I ask innocently.

He takes a swig before setting his bottle down. "Bulldozer. What does that mean? Alice referred to it…that night."

I wince a little, remembering the night I sprained my ankle, before looking at him with an eyebrow arched as if to say "you need to ask?" When he looks confused, I roll my eyes, a little embarrassed at having to explain—and being unable to back out. I mean, where am I gonna go?

"It's kind of a…" I think for a moment, resting my knife "…term of endearment."

He snorts. "I don't believe you."

I huff a little and can feel my ears reddening. "Um…"

"Spit it out, Swan." He reaches to steal more of the food I'm cutting, and I swat at him. He withdraws his hand and returns it to his beer.

I take a deep breath, steeling my resolve. Then I square my shoulders; I still think it wasn't my fault. "I started calling you that because, well, it seemed fitting."

"Fitting of…" He trails off, waving one hand gently in the air as if to physically draw the words from me.

I sigh. "The way you ploughed into me when we first…'met.'"

He pauses for a moment, his green eyes wide. Then, as a total surprise to me, he throws his head back and laughs heartily.

I can't help but smile and shake my head and return to my chopping.

He takes another sip and clears his throat. "I had a name for you too, you know."

My interest is piqued, and I look at him levelly. I'm a little concerned, given Emmett's comment from the night at the gym. "I can only imagine."

Edward snickers. "It's not what you think. Nor is it as creative as your name for me." I glance at him as he continues. "I called you Carabiner Girl."

I think for a moment then shrug one shoulder. "That's not so bad." I look at him pointedly with a grin. "Unimaginative, but not so bad."

He clears his throat. "Um, that's not the worst part."

I close my eyes for a moment. "Dare I ask?

Edward squints his eyes shut, hiding the green from me, and his words come out in a rush. "I may have thought you were a secret agent."

Now it's my turn to laugh—and laugh I do. I step back from the bench, doubled over with tears running down my face. The fact that this highly intelligent, medically trained man thought that one: secret agents regularly wander the streets of Seattle and frequent grimy climbing gyms; and two: I am one of them, cracks me the hell up.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he mutters, rolling his eyes and taking a longer sip from his beer. "It's not that far-fetched, you know."

His comment sends me into further giggles, and I truly cannot remember ever laughing so hard. When I finally straighten myself and take a sip from my own beer, he's grinning at me.

"As much as I like Stormy Bella," he says, his voice considered but light, "I really like seeing you laugh more."

I smile, feeling genuinely happy and relaxed, and think laughter really is the best medicine—and Edward is the perfect doctor to prescribe it.

-~[YD]~-

We're sitting, curled up on the couch in front of the fire. Well, Edward's seated on the couch, and I'm stretched out, my legs resting across his lap. He's absently massaging my calves—and I'm trying to stop myself from moaning.

"Your first kiss was really Jacob?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah. We were friends, and I figured he'd be as good a choice as anyone." I shift in my seat at my own words. "God, I sound like a bitch."

He chuckles. "I really thought you and he were…" he nods his head "…you know."

I blanch, just a little. "Me and Jake? No…"

Edward shrugs, but his face turns a little stormy. "He was always touching you. And then you kissed him when he left…" He trails off, looking intently at his hands which have resumed kneading my legs.

"I gave him a kiss goodbye on the cheek," I acquiesce. "Besides, he likes Leah."

"Ah," says Edward contemplatively. "I must have missed that detail."

"Why?" I tease. "Jealous?" I swear, despite the glow of the fire, I see his cheeks color. "Really?"

Suddenly Edward releases my calves and clambers over the top of me, forcing me to lie back as he hovers above me. "Honestly?" he asks huskily. "Every time he touched you, I wanted to surgically remove his hands."

I giggle because although Jake's a big guy, he's no threat—and I'm _definitely_ not interested. I tell Edward as much, and with a growl, he crushes his lips to mine.

I lose myself in the kiss, and after a few moments, Edward pulls away. "Sleep?" he asks. I nod, suddenly becoming a little more aware of the situation. As Edward and I have spent more time together, we've become more and more comfortable around each other. We've still got a lot to learn about one another, but the afternoon and evening have been dotted with easy questioning that has never seemed probing.

I can't help an uneasy feeling as I stand in the bathroom off Edward's room, brushing my teeth. Edward was right—although my room has been boarded up, it looks like a tornado has been through it. I rinse my mouth out and run a brush through my hair.

He's been completely honest, and I feel a little like a liar. While we've talked about his ex-girlfriends, I find my chest start to seize when the topic has addressed my exes. Feeling uncomfortable, I change the subject—the feeling of shame and humiliation that comes with the Tyler situation weighing heavily on my mind. As I stare at my own reflection, I wonder if at some stage, I should take my own advice. While I'm definitely open to the possibility of _something_ with Edward, I can't help but wonder—how long will it take before he gets bored and runs off?

I shake the thoughts from my head, deciding to think about it when I'm back in Seattle. The weather report for tomorrow looks promising, and after speaking to Mrs. Young, it looks like the creek will drop far enough for us to be able to leave. I give myself one last look in the mirror, smooth my hands over the cool satin, and inwardly sigh. I'm going to kill Alice.

When I open the door, the room is dimly lit; the candle we're using to conserve power throws dancing shadows on the walls. Edward is reclined against the headboard, but he looks up when I clear my throat. I lean against the doorframe, my toes touching the fringed edge of the large mat that covers the bedroom floor, and look at him shyly.

Edward's eyes widen, and he sits a little straighter. I errantly slide the thin strap that has slipped down my arm back onto my shoulder.

"My pajamas weren't dry," I offer in explanation. "And the t-shirt I usually sleep in is ruined."

Edward nods, his eyes still wide. He goes to speak then closes his mouth and swallows before trying again. "It's good. I mean, not that your clothes were ruined…I mean…" he swallows again. "…you look nice. Not nice—just...wow."

I slowly walk toward the bed, feeling a little like a temptress that I most definitely am not. Edward pulls the sheets back for me, and I climb in facing away from him, my head resting on the pillow.

He leans toward the nightstand and I hear a soft puff as he blows out the candle. The next thing I feel are Edward's hands on my bare legs, his breath on my neck, and his lips on my shoulder. I shiver and roll toward him, our eyes meeting in a lingering gaze. Then I reach forward and kiss him with everything I have.

* * *

**A/N: **Oops…sorry about the cliffie (not really!)

Thanks for sticking with me! Let me know what you think? I love hearing your theories and thoughts. More often than not, your words get mine flowing ;)

**Some recs:**

**Sixteen Years** by **evilnat: **Written for the Fandom for Suicide Awareness complilation, it tells the story of an angry Edward—a nineties grunge rocker who is aiming to make a comeback.

**Mate of Honor** by …**me!** insert shameless plug I mentioned a few chapters ago I had a new fic in the works. Well, the first chapter is up! YD will always come first, but this one just helps blow the cobwebs out.


	14. Chapter 13: Project

**A/N: **Thanks to L, L, R & M. I'm nervous as hell about this one, so I'm just going to let you have it. AN at the end.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a MacBook that I'm sure is on its last legs.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**Project - **A potential new route or bouldering problem that is being attempted, but has not seen a first ascent yet.

It's like something in me has snapped. The steel cable that has been holding me back is rapidly unraveling with each new press of Edward's lips against mine. His hands cover my sides with mild enough force to make me feel wanted and treasured. The rising panic that usually comes with him being so close is barely a dull buzz in the back of my mind, and I feel it dissolve into darkness.

Feeling bold, I move away from his lips to press mine against the hard line of his jaw before edging back to the soft skin below his ear. I inhale the scent that is inherently Edward as I run my nose along the shell of his ear, delighting in the goose bumps that appear.

His breath quickens as I continue my path, resting up on one elbow to slide my fingers into his hair. He turns his head to capture my lips again, rolling me over until he hovers over my body. I relish the weight of his strong angled body against my softer curves and return his kisses with vigor.

"Bella…" he whispers into my neck, and my eyes roll back until they close. "What have you done to me?" He doesn't let me answer—kisses me fiercely again. Suddenly, he's lying between my legs, and I can feel his hip bones pressing against the inside of my thighs. He pauses when I speak in a whisper.

"Edward? I don't think I'm ready…"

"Shh…" he says gently, shaking his head so that our noses brush. "Me neither…" he gives me a soft kiss "…but I want to make you feel good. Let me make you feel good."

He resumes pressing soft kisses against my neck, the fervor gone and replaced with a tenderness that whispers across my skin. My body responds—my defenses drop, and my arms reach to return his embrace.

He shifts his body to lie alongside mine and moves his hand up my body, brushing over my ribs. I wriggle in response, and he stops, his thumb teasing the underside of my breast.

"Can I touch you?" He speaks into my neck, giving me a gentle nip with his teeth before adding a soft kiss. "Please…let me touch you."

I nod, close my eyes, and just let myself…_feel_.

His hands mold to my body, and the only barrier between us is cool satin. His thumb brushes gently across my breast, causing a shiver to ripple through my body. He silently slips his hand underneath the bottom of the flimsy nightie, sliding his palm up my body before flipping it to brush my breast with the back of his fingers. He gently grasps the satin from the inside of my nightie, pulling it down to expose my skin to the cool night air before he presses an open-mouthed kiss on my nipple.

Like the cool, calm, and collected girl I am, I let my head fall back as a soft moan escapes my lips. Edward gives a muted, satisfied grunt before smothering attention on the neglected breast with the fingers of his free hand.

I guess he believes in equal opportunity.

His tongue circles and flicks while his teeth gently graze. I squeeze my thighs together, dying to ease some of the tension that's coursing throughout my body in waves. After blowing across it tenderly, he switches to the other nipple, and if I wasn't moaning like a wanton hussy before, I am now.

_It's been a long, _long_ time, okay?_

I've been concentrating so hard on the sensation of Edward's lips against my skin that I barely notice my hands are moving rhythmically through his hair. I move them down and along the line of his shoulders before grasping at the back of his shirt. He sits up briefly, long enough for me to peel his t-shirt over his head, before returning his attention to my exposed breasts. I let my hands explore his body, taking a moment to appreciate the way his muscles work beneath his skin.

If I'd had doubts before about Edward being a climber, those are _long_ gone now.

His strong fingers draw lines up my body, up my sides, along my arms to my elbows, where he draws my arms upward, capturing my wrists in one strong hand.

He draws back for a moment to look me in the eyes. I feel vulnerable…and _incredibly_ turned on.

Edward must sense something in my expression, because he presses his lips to mine, encouraging them to move, and traces a line along my lips with my tongue. I willingly open my mouth, letting his tongue slide along mine. I tilt my head to the side, and he uses this to both of our advantage.

Ever so gently, as if I'm breakable, he traces my face with his fingers—memorizing the contours of my skin with his fingertips—before trailing down, down, down…

"May I?" he whispers.

"Please," I whimper. "Edward, please."

Satin shifts and he traces gentle circles around my hip bone once…twice…before sweeping across the soft skin above my panties. I shudder when his fingers graze cotton. He lightly strokes the fabric between my thighs, his groan an indication that he's as affected by this as I am.

He plants a tender kiss below my ear as he slides the fabric to the side, slipping a finger along smooth skin. I bite down on my lip to stifle the noise that threatens to escape as he circles, slides, and gently rubs the point that sends electricity coursing through every muscle, nerve ending, and blood vessel in my rapidly heating body.

At this point, I'm not above begging, but it's not necessary—he seems to read my reactions, slipping his finger downward to where I'm warmest before stopping teasingly. I open my mouth in a silent plea then gasp as he dips deeper.

"Is this okay?" he asks, hot air wafting across my neck.

"God yes," I rasp. "Please, more."

He obliges, moving slowly in, out, in, before adding another finger. I open my eyes when he moves his head, tilting to watch how his hand is pleasuring me, a look of unbridled lust clouding his features as he brings his eyes back to mine.

"I want to watch you fall apart," he says in a low voice, bringing his forehead to touch mine and his fingers still working me. "I want to see you lose control."

He pauses for a moment, and I whimper at the loss. Gripping the cotton between my thighs, he pulls, and I lift my hips to allow the garment to slide down my legs. His hand returns, making a path up the inside of my leg. I wriggle slightly as he passes the inside of my knee, but any ticklish sensation is lost as he cups me, placing a gentle pressure, before easily sliding his fingers back in. This time, I can't hold in the soft moan that has been bubbling in my throat.

He gradually builds the pace, and I gasp as heat swirls through my body. He moves faster, curling on the outward motion, and I feel the tremors beginning in the pit of my stomach.

"You're so beautiful."

I arch my back at his words, and he presses a kiss to one nipple before circling it with his tongue. Thoughts of his tongue there send my imagination to places—I envisage him moving his tongue to where his fingers are touching me so intimately. The sensations invade my mind, blocking out everything else in the room except for Edward and the way he's making me feel.

I'm so close, teetering on an edge like the first part of an abseil. I know if I let myself go, the rush will surpass the anticipation that keeps me holding on. I writhe, seeking more, and Edward gives me that push—pressing his thumb to the sensitive place outside while curling and hitting that point inside me that makes _everything_ better.

"Let go, baby. Just let go."

My voice is a rasped whisper. "Oh, God…_Edward…"_

I crash—rainbow ribbons swirl behind my closed eyelids, and sparks burst into explosions throughout my mind and body. My chest heaves as I try to pull as much oxygen as possible into my lungs, and Edward's lips press to mine, capturing my gasps.

"_Fuck_." He draws in a sharp, ragged breath. "That was the most incredible thing I've seen in a long, long time."

He removes his fingers, and I roll toward him, burying into his bare chest, and try to catch my breath. My hands reach forward to explore him, and I slide my top thigh between his pajama-clad legs. He bucks in response, and I feel his hard length push against me.

"Mmm…thank you," I mumble into his skin, my nose hairs tickled by the fine hairs of his chest. "That was…God…wow."

"My pleasure." He chuckles. "Anytime…and I mean that." I can hear the smirk in his voice, and my lips curve into a smile as I press a kiss to his chest.

"I could…" I trail off as my hand slides down his chest, stopping to tease the trail of hair below his navel.

"You don't have to…_fuck." _His argument is interrupted as I grip him on the outside of his pajama pants, wrapping my fingers around and pressing the heel of my palm as I stroke. "But…okay…if you want…"

I tease his nipple with my tongue. "I want."

"Mmm…" He gulps. "Okay…"

I caress the skin below the waistband of his pants for a moment, before slipping my hand in farther to wrap around him and pump once. He shudders and thrusts slightly into my hand. In order to get better access, I release my grip, grasp the waistband, and pull. He lifts his hips to help, and I push the barrier out of the way as far as I can. When the cotton reaches his knees, I lift my leg to push the rest of the way with my foot.

In the dim light, he stands proud against his stomach, and my mind goes to all sorts of places wondering just what he's capable of with…_that._

I resume my actions, wrapping my hand around his firm skin and bringing my hand to the tip, moving the moisture around the tip with my thumb, before sliding back down. Edward groans, moving his hips upward in gentle thrusts in time with my motion. I shift my body up, not breaking my rhythm, to kiss his lips, and he opens his mouth. I do the same, our tongues finding each other and moving together.

He winces slightly, and I rear back to look him in the eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it feels good, but…" He looks down to where my hand is. "It's just a little…"

My eyes widen a little in recognition, and I pause with the thought that it's hurting him. I release him as he continues speaking.

"There's some lotion—"

He pauses when, feeling brave, I reach down to where some of my own wetness remains. Once I've re-gripped and begun again, he throws his head back into the pillow.

"_Fuck,_ Bella, that is the _hottest…_" His words trail off with a groan as he pulls my face toward his to kiss me deeply. My hand moves faster, and my grip becomes stronger. "Your hands…"

I twist and shuffle to kneel beside him, my hand breaking rhythm for only a moment. I kiss him back with all the fervor I have and continue stroking the hard, long, length of him until his thrusts become choppy.

"I'm…_fuck…_I'm…"

"Go."

His perfect abs clench and his mouth opens into a silent gasp as he releases into my hand and across his stomach. He falls back onto the pillow, his eyes hooded, with a lazy grin on his face.

"_Damn_."He grasps my face to kiss me passionately. "Hottest fucking hand job ever."

I giggle at his…compliment and plant another quick kiss on his lips before skipping to the bathroom and returning with a couple of wet washcloths. He accepts with a quiet "thanks," and we clean up before he hops up to deposit the cloths back in the bathroom.

_So, I checked out his naked ass as he headed to the bathroom…reflexive response?_

While he's gone, I grab a pair of fresh panties, and when he returns, he pulls on a clean pair of boxers before hopping back into bed with me. He pulls my back to his front and wraps his arms around me, planting a soft kiss on my temple.

"You really are amazing. You know that, right?"

I smile into the darkness, although unable to agree with him. I feel like a fraud for not correcting him but snuggle into his embrace regardless.

"Goodnight, Edward."

"Night, Bella."

-~[YD]~-

For the second time this trip, the car is packed and we're ready to go. We've bid yet another goodbye to the cabin and eaten a final breakfast at the island bench amongst kisses and tender caresses. I stand by the open passenger door of Edward's SUV, looking back up at the cabin with a hint of nostalgia. It has seen a number of events over the course of the weekend—a houseful of people sharing a happy dinner, laughter, and silly games by the fire; my irrational, angry meltdown on that first night; and the beginning of something new with the green-eyed, smirking man who's currently walking toward me after locking the front door.

The rain stopped in earnest last night during the time Edward and I shared pleasure, and this morning I was able to properly inspect the damage of the branch that went hurtling through my bedroom window two nights ago.

I made a quick phone call to Charlie after breakfast, apologizing for being unable to stay with him, and make promises to get back to Forks as soon as I can. I think if we'd been stuck here another night, he would have definitely arranged for Search and Rescue to bust me out of here. I'm sure that if he'd been completely aware of the connection Edward and I have developed, he'd have made sure Edward was left behind—quite possibly handcuffed to a post.

Edward's grin widens as he gets closer to me. "Ready?" he asks, bending to wrap his arms around me and slide his nose up my neck and across to my nose.

"Yep," I reply with a smile of my own. He plants a swift kiss on my lips before holding my hand to help me into the car. I make a mental note—if I ever meet his mother, I should thank her for his manners. Our first meeting notwithstanding, of course.

We drive away from the cabin and along the winding driveway. The water has receded, leaving the bridge undamaged and safe to drive on. Edward is still careful, slowing down to avoid skidding on the still slippery gravel. I see him visibly relax when we turn out onto the 101, heading for Port Angeles.

After dropping the keys off and explaining to Mrs. Young about the broken window, she is more grateful that we're okay. She apologizes for the state of the creek and promises to have the blockages downstream cleared away. I assure her that my article will not be affected by the disruption—she's been more than accommodating—and thank her when she offers to waive the cost of the additional two nights.

It turns out my bedroom door wasn't broken after all—Edward's argument was that he knocked each time. I'm not sure whether I should be creeped out by him walking into my room or flattered that he was concerned enough to want to check on me. Maybe a little of both.

The trip back to Seattle is relaxed, and the air between us is easy—a stark contrast to the tension-filled trip only a few days earlier. I call Alice on the way back—avoiding her pressing questions about what we've been doing while we were cabin-bound and if I wore what was in the bag she packed—and she informs me Emmett had one of his mechanic buddies tow my truck to his shop. Turns out I'm up for new parts, but the truck will soon be running and I'll get it back in a few days.

A quick chat with Tanya tells me I didn't miss much during yesterday's regular team meeting. I promise to get her a draft of my story by Thursday, ready to publish in a web feature on Saturday. She tells me that's fine and suggests I work from home to get a good start on some articles. She'll call if she needs anything.

We stop for gas at a truck stop, and I get out to stretch my legs. While Edward goes in to pay for the gas, I try to work out the stiffness my body as best I can. I haven't climbed or been on a run in days, and my body is itching to move.

"Miss Swan, you are entirely too tempting," a smooth voice murmurs from behind me. I giggle as strong arms wrap around my middle, pulling me back toward a solid chest. "What were you thinking about? You looked to be a million miles away."

"Just thinking I need some exercise is all," I reply, closing my eyes as his lips touch just below my ear. "I've barely moved in days."

Edward's deep chuckle sends vibrations through my skin, and I slap his arm in response. "Not _that_ kind of exercise." I chastise him. "I was thinking of going for a climb at Emmett's gym on Thursday night." I pause, twisting to look into his jade green eyes and feel a little shy. "Come?"

He looks pensive for a moment, and I try to encourage him. "You don't have to climb. You could belay for me."

The beginnings of a grin touches his lips before breaking into one of his full-out smirks. "That _would_ offer me a pretty good view…"

I give him a teasing elbow in his ribs as I turn. He rubs the spot with a mock-wounded look on his face. "Ow! What is it with you girls beating up on guys? I'm surprised Emmett has any brain cells left with the amount of times Rose smacks him."

"And yet, Emmett continues to say stupid shit," I respond with a grin, opening the door to the car. "Come on, you can think about it. No pressure."

From what I can deduce, Edward seems comfortable in the gym, although he prefers bouldering. The cave at Em's is very well padded, and there's never far to fall. I suppose it's why Edward's bouldering problems seem to be getting increasingly harder—he's trying to find ways to extend himself without actually climbing upward.

When Edward drops me off at my apartment, I get the impression I'll be bouldering by myself on Thursday. I send a text to Alice to see if she and Jasper can make it, knowing that Rose and Emmett will already be in the building.

Before I fall asleep that night, I roll over, a little disappointed that the other side of my bed is cold and very surprised at myself for feeling that way.

-~[YD]~-

Leaning back in my chair, I fold my hands behind my head, proud of my progress over the last few days. While the article is by no means finished, I've definitely made a solid start. I've also sketched out a few more ideas that I can't wait to share with my team on Monday, including some opportunities for collaboration with Alec and maybe even—_shudder—_James.

I check the time on my laptop, grinning when I see it's not too early to go to the gym. In addition to getting my work done, I've also come up with a plethora of time-wasting techniques. Maybe I really want to go climbing…or maybe I hope that Edward will be there.

We didn't exchange numbers the other day, but I figured I'd bump into him at some point. I'm trying to play it cool—and it's working pretty well so far. I've hardly thought about his breath on my skin. I have pretty much forgotten about how his lips feel on mine. I _definitely _have paid no mind to the memory of his tongue on my nipples. And there's _no way_ I've given any thought to the feeling of his long, long fingers…

Dammit. I'm screwed. And for the record, I haven't thought of the prospect of that, either. Oh, and yesterday a pig flew up to my apartment window, tapped on it, and screamed "YOU ARE A LIAR!" in my face.

My dear friend, The Rabbit, just isn't cutting it anymore.

I wriggle in my seat before rising and walking to my bedroom. I dress in my standard climbing attire—making sure I'm not wearing the leggings with the hole, and I put on the blue tank that makes the most of my barely-there boobs—layer up in warmer clothes and pull on my Chucks. On my way to the door, I grab my phone and keys and head out of my apartment to my newly, expensively repaired truck.

My truck comes to a pleasantly rumbling stop outside RockFace, and I give it a gentle pat on the hood for behaving so well on my way into the building. Laurent is at the counter and cheerfully stamps my pass. I purchase a bottle of water from him before swinging through the turnstile.

"Chalky!" The familiar, thunderous voice echoes off every wall of the gym, as Emmett's hulking form lumbers toward me. He hoists me in the air, giving me a spin that makes me squeal. "Glad to have you back!"

"You make it sound like I've been away for months!" I laugh in response. "But thanks, Em."

He nods to my harness, which I've looped over one shoulder. "Climbing?"

"Yeah, Alice said she'd belay for me," I respond with a shrug. _And I'm secretly hoping someone else might, too_.

"Well, have fun! I'll catch up with you later." Emmett's dimples seem especially prominent as he waves me off. I give him a small salute in return before making my way up the stairs toward the mezzanine level and the bouldering cave.

When I reach the cave, music is blaring, and I'm a little disappointed I won't have it to myself…until the sight of the physique that is sinuously moving its way across the wall stops me dead in my tracks.

I've never seen Edward climb before, and I can safely say—I've never seen anyone climb like him.

He moves with Alice's grace and Emmett's strength. Each move is calculated and flows into the next. He pauses occasionally to flick his sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes or reach one hand behind him to dip into his chalk bag. I hold in the noises that threaten to escape my lips as the bulk of his shoulder ripples beneath his singlet, the hint of a tattoo that I'd failed to notice before peeking out on the back of one shoulder. It looks to be a carabiner with a loop of rope, lock-gate closed.

His feet twist and turn, depending on the angle and size of the foothold, his shoes making him seemingly gripped to the wall. Fingers that I know only too well reach, grip, and flex in a way that makes me think he could hold on by those alone.

If he's beautiful when he stands, he's an absolute vision when he moves like this.

A low chuckle breaks my concentration. "Enjoying the view, Swan?" He taps the final hold, signifying the end of the problem, and drops lightly to his feet. "Hey."

"Hey," I reply, trying to muster some of the confidence I usually have in this place. "I didn't think you were coming."

"Eh," he answers nonchalantly, a mischievous grin in place. "Nothing better to do."

I watch as he walks toward me, the ease of moving on the vertical surface mirrored in the way he moves across the crash mats to me until he's standing right in front of me. With a glint in his eye, he reaches around me, palming my ass and drawing me closer. He presses his hard body into mine as our lips meet.

"So, what are you doing?" I ask as I pull back, stepping away to gain some distance and reaching down to yank on my climbing shoes.

"Just proving to myself that 'a lick of the wrist' isn't that difficult," he replies, giving me a sly wink.

I give him a confident grin as I tie my laces. "What, are you still pissed that I finished it first?"

"Oh, Bella," he says as he stalks toward me, his eyes darkening. "On the contrary—I'm thrilled that you finished first."

I can't hide my blush as my breath catches and my heart starts to pound with his closer proximity. He snickers into my neck as I stop myself from tackling him to a crash mat right here in the cave.

I wander over to the wall and grasp two handholds, not caring that they don't match, and start moving along in an attempt to warm up. A glimpse over my shoulder shows Edward lowering himself to sit on a crash mat, reclining casually on one hand as he sips from his water bottle with the other. I ignore him—or try to—as I move around one way then back. I feel his eyes on me the entire time, and I refrain from doing anything flashy that might put me on my ass.

I finish up and lithely drop from the wall, stretching out my neck and hands. "Belay for me?" I ask, voicing it as a request so he has the opportunity to say no.

He doesn't move for a moment, and I see apprehension flicker across his features. That expression is gone when he unfolds his long frame from its seated position and squares his shoulders—he now looks determined. "Sure."

I turn away from him so he doesn't see the grin that's about to break across my face, and I get myself under control as I step into my harness. He reaches into his bag and grabs his own, and I bite back another grin that he came prepared.

Doing my best not to ogle the way the harness hugs the front of his body, I pick up my stuff and wander into the main gym, looking over the row of top-ropes set up along the mezzanine floor. Spotting one in the far corner, away from the staircase, I point.

"That one?"

Edward nods, his eyes not betraying any hint of apprehension. The boy's got a good game face.

I walk toward the rope and start clipping in, holding out the carabiner for Edward to do the same. He wordlessly sets himself up and takes a comfortable, stable stance with his feet before looking me in the eye. When he speaks, his voice is steady and smooth. "Belay on. Climb when ready."

Popping up onto my tiptoes, I give him a quick kiss before turning to the wall. "Red one, okay? Nothing too reachy."

"I got you." His words hold more, and I believe him.

I take the first few moves easily and settle into a rhythm. As I move on, I check in with Edward. "All good?"

He looks up at me, his face the picture of concentration as his hands carefully grasp the rope. "Yeah."

I smile back down reassuringly.

As I approach three quarters of the way up, I pause to stretch my hands and take in the rest of the gym. Glancing across the floor, I see Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie gathered near the top of the stairs. I pay them no mind—I don't want Edward to lose his focus.

"I was right about one thing." Edward's voice drifts up to me. I glance down below my feet to his upward facing smirk. "It _is _a good view from here."

I scoff at him and roll my eyes, resuming my climb. As I move, he offers me hints, spotting holds that I can't see from my vantage point. When I hit the top, I let myself rest into the rope and Edward lowers me to the ground. As my feet touch, I turn to him excitedly.

"I knew you could do it," I whisper, unlocking and removing the carabiner.

"Thank you," he replies, the hint of a proud grin touching his lips. "Thanks for trusting me."

I grin back.

A different voice interrupts. "Nice climb, Bella!" Alice grins at me as our audience walks up to us. "Can I just check something?"

"Um…"

"Turn around, B."

I oblige, throwing Edward a confused look. He returns an equally questioning glance with a shrug of his shoulder.

Looking at Alice over my shoulder, she reaches and grabs his wrist. He furrows his brow at her, and she brings his hand closer to my ass. Recognition hits me, as she matches the size and shape of Edward's hand to two perfect, white, chalky handprints on each of my ass cheeks.

Emmett guffaws, Alice squeals, and Jasper chuckles as Rosalie's smooth alto rises above them all. "_Someone_ has some explaining to do!"

* * *

**A/N: **So, there you have it—my first attempt at citrus. While writing Edward's back-story was difficult to write, this chapter was a challenge unto itself. Another big thanks to my pre-readers and betas for your support. Best team _ever._

Thanks so much to **twilover76** for nominating YD for Fic of the Week at The Lemonade Stand, and a big "hi there!" to my new readers. More thanks to everyone who has ever recc'd this story in facebook groups, retweeted on twitter, and left me the best kind of love-notes in reviews.

If you haven't seen how a harness hugs a man's physique, I suggest you get to googlin'. It might help with the visual (teeheehee).

**Some Recs: **

Give them a read and review, and tell 'em I said hi!

I was in the mood for something complete and I need to chip through my TBR list, so I'm reading **There is a Light** by **belladonnacullen**. If you haven't read it, go start it. If you have—read it again.

**The Missing Ingredient** by **Edward's Eternal:** A Chefward one-shot. Yummy.

Here's two that have just started. Both hold promise of being a hell of a ride.

**Somewhere In Between **by **Write and Left**: The prologue made me go "what the _what_ what?!"

**Not what She Seems** by **Savage7289:** As with anything written by Savage—you never know what you're going to get, but you can be sure that it'll get you thinking.


	15. Chapter 14: Latch

**A/N: **Thanks to my team: RaindropSoup, mcc101180, TwiSNFan, and Louisemc86

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a trampoline that I've gotta figure out how to put together by Christmas.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**Latch - **Successfully grip a hold, a skill that is dependent on contact strength, accuracy, and timing.

As I sit on the floor, leaning back against a wall opposite the route Jasper is climbing, I do my best to avoid Alice's rapid-fire questions. She barely gives me time to answer before asking the next. Meanwhile, Edward is belaying for Jasper. Although I know he's concentrating on the task, his gently shaking shoulders give away his laughter at my expense.

"So the creek really flooded?"

"Yes."

"And there was no way you could leave?"

"No."

"And you had no power?"

"No."

"No you did, or no you didn't?"

"No, we didn't."

"And then a tree fell on your room?"

"No."

"It didn't?"

"No. I told you—a branch came through the window."

"And you couldn't sleep upstairs."

I pause. "No."

"And there was no heating?"

"No."

"So you slept in Edward's room."

Again, I pause. "Yes."

"In his bed? Did you use anything from the bag I gave you?"

"Yes, yes." _Fuck, I didn't mean give her the second "yes."_

"Oh my God! You did! You totally slept together!"

Edward _finally_ interrupts as he lowers Jasper to the ground. "Alice! Leave Bella alone."

"Ha!" she shrieks indignantly in return. "Leave Bella alone? _You're_ one to talk! You totally took advantage of her!" Alice's eyes widen for dramatic effect, and she drops her voice. "She was a girl—stranded, afraid, cold. You lured her into your room so you could—"

"Okay, I'm going home," I interrupt, leaping to my feet and dusting the still remaining chalk off my ass. "I'll see you all later."

"Bella, wait," Edward calls as I begin to walk toward the stairs. The carabiners clink together as he locks them off and secures the top rope. "I'll walk you to your car."

I'm secretly thrilled but try to play it a little cool. "I'll be fine, but…okay."

He grins, gently guiding me with his hand on my back as we begin to descend the stairs. "I insist."

I wave goodbye to Laurent on my way out and zip my hoodie as Edward holds the door open for me. The cool night air greets us, and I giggle to myself. Edward gives me a wry look.

"Dare I ask?" His green eyes twinkle at me in the streetlights.

"I was just thinking." I giggle again as I look at the closed door. "It's nice that you held the door open for me."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Very funny."

I shrug one shoulder, and he steps closer to me. I shiver slightly as he places his hands on my waist, bending down to rub my nose gently with his. "Bella?" he asks softly, his breath caressing my lips.

"Yes?" My heart pounds in direct response to his touch.

He's so close that his normally vivid green eyes appear a little blurry. "Will you go out with me?"

I can't help it. I'm becoming one of those girls—I swoon a little.

"I'd love to," I say with a sigh.

"Tomorrow night?" he asks, his lips brushing my cheek as they move toward my ear.

"Sounds great." I shudder as I take a breath and resist biting his shoulder—he smells delicious.

"I'll make reservations. Pick you up at seven-thirty?"

I will my heart to slow down—it's about to give me away. "Okay."

"I'm looking forward to it." He pulls back from me and holds out his hand expectantly. "Could I please have your phone?"

I fish it out of my bag, unlock it, and hand it over. He taps the screen a few times and then I hear his phone ring in his pocket. He hands my phone back and kisses me gently on the lips. I close my eyes, and he pulls away, leaving me standing like a dork in the street with my eyes closed. He chuckles.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say, regaining some of my composure.

"Tomorrow," he echoes. "Bye, Bella."

I watch him walk back into the building, and I practically skip to open the door to my truck. I twirl a little before I reach the door and trip over my own feet, catching myself on the side mirror before I completely hit the ground. Some random couple walking past snickers at me, and I blush in embarrassment before scrambling into the cabin as quickly as I can.

After starting the engine to get the heat going, I pull my phone out. When I scroll through the contacts, there's no listing for Edward. I frown at the phone, returning to the top. When I come across the new name that has been added, I throw my head back and press my phone to my chest, my laughter echoing in the small space of the cabin.

_Bulldozer._

-~[YD]~-

I want to throw up.

I can dangle from a rope eighty feet in the air held there by nothing but a piece of metal I stuck into the rock myself and be completely at ease. Exhilarated, even.

But put me in front of a mirror, in a pretty blue dress, my hair and makeup done, wearing a pair of high heels, because of a "date"?

Yep. I want to throw up.

"You look great, Bella," Alice trills, meeting my "smoky eyes" in the mirror with hers. Apparently I can wear a "smoky eye." The last smoky eye I had was when I got a little to close to a campfire.

That shit stings. This one is making my eyes water, too.

"I don't know, Al…"

She grins. "Trust me—you're a knockout." She holds my chin still and comes at me with a tube of lipstick. "One final touch…"

The girl in the mirror does not look like me. Well, it looks like me, but not…_me. _Alice has done my eyes to make them look larger, and my lips look fuller with the deep red that stains them. If I'd seen this color in the store, I'd immediately have thought it would look trashy. I'm happy to say, it doesn't seem to. It just…works.

Again, I'm adorned in an Alice Brandon creation. The deep blue dress skims my hips and is cut in a way that doesn't make my climber's shoulders look like I regularly do heavy lifting. The dress is sexy without making me look cheap. I snicker to myself—it might be a good name for Alice's label: "Sexy, Not Slutty."

A rap at the door causes me to take a deep breath. I turn to Alice, who is grinning at me. She squeezes my hands. "Are you ready?"

I take a deep breath and let it out. "As I'll ever be."

When I open the front door, the sight nearly takes my breath away. Edward is standing there in a black button-down shirt and dress pants. He has one hand tucked into his pocket, and the fingers of the other are wrapped around a small bouquet of flowers—freesia, daffodils, and irises. His eyes sweep from my toes, up my body, and meet my eyes before his face breaks into a wide, crooked grin.

"Hey," I greet him breathily. I hope I don't sound asthmatic.

"Hey, yourself," he replies.

"Am I overdressed?" I ask timidly, nervously smoothing out my dress.

"No," he answers quickly, watching my hands. I still my hands and clasp them together. "You look…really lovely." He holds the flowers out to me. "Here, these are for you."

They smell lovely, and I thank him. I pull the door wider and usher him inside.

"Hi, Edward. I was just leaving," Alice chirps, placing the last of her makeup in the bag and zipping it closed. He glances back at her, and while I put the flowers in water, they engage in one of those weird conversations they have with their eyes. He nods slightly, and Alice bids me goodnight. The front door shuts, and Edward and I are alone.

I hook a thumb over my shoulder, gesturing toward my room. "I'll just get my coat, and I'll be ready to go."

He smiles. "No problem."

I dash to my bedroom, collect my coat and tiny, borrowed purse, and meet Edward back in the living room. "Okay, I'm ready."

He grins and indicates for me to lead the way. After I lock my door, we descend the stairs and I remain upright on my heels—my first success for the evening. Edward holds the door open for me, and I stop outside the front of my building. I look up and down the street, scanning for the Volvo, when Edward appears at my shoulder. He gives me a wink before hitting the key fob, two flashes of orange bouncing off the nearby buildings. I look at the car that now has its headlights on—and it's not the Volvo.

"That's…"

"Not a soccer-mom car," he finishes for me cheekily. He opens the door and holds out his hand to me. I take it, and he steadies me as I duck down low to get into the sleek silver machine. The door closes with a muffled thud, and the leather seats all but wrap themselves around me. The car is completely spotless, as if it has been recently cleaned, but Edward's delicious scent lingers.

I watch him walk around the front. He gets in and runs a hand through his hair. "Ready?"

I nod in reply before asking quietly, "Where's the Volvo?"

"At home," he replies simply.

"And this is a…loaner?"

In the light of oncoming headlights, I see the corner of his mouth turn up. "No, it's mine. It's just been in storage for a while."

We zip through the streets of Seattle. Edward smoothly changes gears, causing the car to hum and send delicious vibrations through my chest. He seems to be completely in his element; his expression indicates that he is enjoying the moment. His hand reaches across the console to hold mine, releasing only to change gears, before casually linking his fingers through mine again. His green eyes are vivid and more alive than I've ever seen them.

I beam at him—his unbridled enthusiasm is catching. He spies me out of the corner of his eye and quickly glances at me.

"What?" he asks lightly.

"Nothing," I reply, still smiling. "You just seem happy."

"I am," he replies, lifting my hand to his lips to place a soft kiss on my wrist. My cheeks flush, and he chuckles.

Before long, we're pulling up in front of a restaurant, and a smartly-dressed valet opens my door before helping me out of the car. I thank him, and Edward appears quickly at my arm, handing his keys to the valet and offering me his elbow. I take it with a grin, and he leads us into the restaurant.

He charms the hostess without even trying. When she shows us to a secluded table, he casually takes my hand and kisses my cheek. Edward pulls out my chair for me and my heart skips a little at his chivalry—while I'm used to grungy bars and climbing hangouts, this is _definitely _a nice change. The restaurant is a little swanky, to be honest. It's probably not something I'd have ever thought to go to, but being here with Edward—I feel comfortable.

Our date is relaxed and easy. The food is delicious. The atmosphere is peaceful and sophisticated, but it's the company that really has me dazzled.

The Edward that sits across from me is relaxed, confident, and considerate. He lacks none of the allure that has drawn me to him again and again, but the cockiness is replaced with something else. I can't put my finger on it, but his manner puts me at ease.

Just after dessert is served, he reaches across the table to take my hand. He seems almost apprehensive when he speaks.

"Bella, I've decided to take your advice," he starts, his expression serious yet relaxed—he almost seems relieved. "I've made an appointment to speak to someone."

I smile in return and squeeze his hand lightly. "That's really great. I'm glad. I hope it helps."

Edward blows out a breath and picks up his dessert fork. "It's someone my dad recommended." He chuckles lowly. "He and my mom have been trying to convince me to do this for years. Dad has been worried I've had PTSD since the accident." He raises his eyes to meet mine. "They're wondering what you've done to me to get me to 'see the light.'"

"What about you? What do you think?"

He considers me seriously before a twinkle appears in his eyes. He lifts his fork toward me, offering a bite of his chocolate mousse cake. "I wonder the same thing."

I blush a little and reach forward to take the offered piece of cake. It's absolutely heavenly, and I close my eyes briefly and hum.

"Bella…" Edward's low, husky voice gains my attention, and I open my eyes. His returning stare is dark and sends shivers through my body. "I wouldn't do that."

I lick my lips, thinking there must be chocolate on my chin. "What?"

In one quick motion, Edward shifts his seat over one place so that he's sitting next to me. He sweeps my hair back over my shoulder and whispers in my ear. "Don't tempt me. Not when you look as sexy as you do." He presses a kiss to the hollow just below my ear. "Not here."

I swallow, and it makes an audible gulp. Edward lets out a soft growl as he brushes his nose along my ear. "You smell good enough to eat."

Despite the temperature of the restaurant being perfectly comfortable, I shiver. Edward's nose is still planted firmly in my hair when a woman's voice gains our attention.

"Edward? Darling, is that you?"

The man next to me groans and speaks in a low voice that only I can hear. "I'm sorry, okay? For what you're about to witness, I'm really sorry."

I draw back to meet his eyes briefly, and I'm sure my own are swimming with questions.

"Oh, it _is_ you! I haven't heard from you in a few days. I was beginning to worry." Eyes as green as Edward's dance in the light of the candle from our table. The woman is beautiful; with the sophisticated way in which she holds herself, the word "lady" is more appropriate.

She's dressed tastefully; her caramel-colored hair caresses her shoulders in soft waves. Her expression radiates peace, and I can't help but feel relaxed in her presence. On first impression, she has Edward's charisma, but in a more muted manner.

Edward rises to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Mom. Sorry I haven't called."

"No matter," she replies with a gentle wave of her hand before turning to me and smiling warmly. "Would you like to introduce me to your date?"

He looks a little uncomfortable but obliges anyway. "Of course. Mom, I'd like you to meet Bella Swan. Bella, this is my mother, Esme Cullen."

I stand as she reaches to gently, but firmly, shake my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she says sincerely. "I've heard so much about you."

Edward lets out a small groan that his mother doesn't hear as I try to get my eyebrows under control before they lift off from my face in surprise. "It's lovely to meet you, too." I smile back because I just can't help it.

"Esme, there you are. Oh, hello, Edward." A man I recognize as the doctor from the hospital wanders up to stand beside Esme. He stands close to her as Edward introduces us formally.

"Hi, Dad. Bella, this is my father, Carlisle."

"Ah yes, Bella. Good to see you again, and under better circumstances." He smiles, and I see Edward's grin on an older face. "I trust you've healed well?"

"Good as new," I reply.

Carlisle addresses us both. "We were just heading out for a drink. Would you care to join us?"

Before either Edward or I can respond, Esme interrupts. "Actually, Carlisle, I think I'm a little tired. Take me home?" She beams at Edward and me as she take her husband's elbow. "It was lovely to meet you, Bella. Edward, lunch on Sunday? Your aunt and uncle are coming, too."

"Sure. See you then."

"Have a nice evening, you two," Carlisle says as he leads his wife away.

I sit down again and take a bite of my panna cotta. "They seem really nice," I remark as Edward shifts awkwardly in your seat.

"What are mothers for if not to embarrass you?" replies Edward. I giggle.

"Come on, it wasn't that bad. Your mom seems sweet."

He grins and digs into his chocolate. "Yeah, she is. She's been especially great to me the last few years. They both have."

I shrug, savoring a bite of the smooth vanilla deliciousness before swallowing. "They love you."

He gazes intently at his dessert, carving lines through the chocolate with his fork. "I haven't been particularly easy to deal with."

Placing a hand gently over the one not assaulting his dessert, I implore him to look at me. "They understand. Everyone closest to you understands. Your parents, Alice, Jasper, Rose, Emmett…"

He gives me a smile that barely turns the edge of his lips, but as always, it's his eyes that give him away. "And now you."

My heart leaps a little. "And now me."

-~[YD]~-

I've been lucky enough to visit some amazing places in my life, but right now, I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be. Edward is walking me back to the door of my apartment. After our date, he'd taken me to walk along the water, and the night air had been lit by two moons—the one in the sky and its reflection off the surface of the Puget Sound. He held my hand, gave me small kisses, and wrapped me up in the warm cocoon that we seem to find ourselves in when we're together, completely oblivious to those around us.

It's safe to say—I've been thoroughly swept off my feet by Edward Cullen.

He's been nothing but attentive, open, and dare I say, the perfect gentleman all evening. And I feel like a total fraud—like I don't deserve any of it.

Sensing my quiet mood, he squeezes my hand, pulling me gently to a stop. He turns my body to face him, drawing me closer so that I have to look up to see into his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Yeah," I reply reluctantly. "Just…thinking."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his face the picture of concern.

"I just…" I take a deep breath and try to steady my fluttering heart. "This is all very new to me."

He draws me closer, wrapping me up in his arms. "Yeah," he murmurs into my hair. "Me, too."

"I'm not very good…" I begin, and even I can hear the worry in my own voice. The words sit in my throat, and I want to tell him the whole, sorry story. "I'm not very good at relationships."

Edward's fingers stroke gently through my hair as he speaks. "We can just take it slow. As slow as you like."

I nod, my forehead pressed into his chest, and I breathe deeply, taking in the manly scent of him. "I'm scared," I admit.

"Me, too," he confesses quietly. "We've still got a lot to learn about each other." He pulls me tighter before reaching down to kiss me goodnight.

The kiss burns with the feelings I can sense brewing for this man, and I bundle the new emotions with the fear of losing him into a hot ball. He backs me against my front door and deepens the kiss before placing one last, lingering kiss on my lips, letting the fire burn.

I speak in a whisper. "Do you—"

"Don't," he interrupts, placing a thumb on my lips. "Don't invite me in, because I won't be able to say no." He gently strokes across my lips before cupping my cheek. "And I want to do this right." He lightly touches our noses together as he straightens. "Thank you for coming out with me."

"Thank you for inviting me," I answer. "I had a really great time." I smile, because at least these words are honest.

With one last tender kiss and a quiet "goodnight," he's gone. I slip into my apartment, unable to hide the grin that breaks out on my face. I place my keys on the hallstand and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror above it. Post-date reflection's eyes are bright, her cheeks are flushed, and she all but glows with a happiness that I haven't seen…ever.

My phone chimes twice, and I check the message.

**Although tonight I sleep alone, I'm not lonely. When I close my eyes, you'll be there. I look forward to seeing you again. Sleep well, Bella. -Edward**

Post-date reflection smiles wider.

-~[YD]~-

When my truck announces its arrival at the _Times_ parking lot with a quiet rattle, rather than its usual resounding bang, I grin to myself. I'm not ready to let the truck go yet, and it seems Emmett's friend did a great job of buying me a little more time with it.

As I slam the door closed—which still creaks embarrassingly as it opens—I hear my phone buzz. I pull it from my bag and upon seeing the picture of Edward's crooked grin on the screen, I answer with a beaming one of my own. "Good morning, Dozer."

"I'm going to be stuck with that forever, aren't I?"

I chuckle, pressing the phone between my shoulder and ear and locking the truck. "Probably."

"I bet I can make you forget."

I shiver. "I bet you could try."

His warm laugh filters through the phone. "You know me, Bella. I never simply try."

I close my eyes for a moment, relishing in the truth of that statement—how well he almost made me forget my own name at the cabin, and how his searing goodnight kiss on Friday prompted me to relive it over and over all weekend. I try to keep the need from my voice and play it casual. "What's up? How was lunch with your parents?"

"I just wanted to say hi." He sounds as relaxed as I'm trying to be, but his voice has an edge. "And lunch was good. I managed to avoid all sorts of embarrassing questions. Alice was there. She and my mom ganged up on me." He sounds like he's pouting.

"Aww, poor thing," I tease playfully. "Hi, yourself, by the way."

The sound of a keyboard tapping drifts through the phone. "Where are you?"

I look both ways and cross the street. "Work. I just parked my truck."

He chuckles. "You mean it actually started?"

I huff. "Of course it did."

Edward chuckles warmly. "I had to ask. You can never be too sure."

"Hey, don't hate the truck."

The chuckle becomes a snicker. "Okay. Only because it's yours." I hear a voice in the background. "Bella, can you hold on a sec?"

"Sure."

Muffled voices fill my ear, and I pause in the lobby, knowing I'll lose signal as soon as I step into the elevator. The voices taper off, and Edward's smooth timbre returns. "I'm back, sorry about that. I have to go."

I take a breath, drawing on my courage. "Hey, are you free for lunch today? I know a deli that makes a killer turkey sandwich."

"Mmm," he hums in a voice that makes me close my eyes. "As great as that sounds, I'm afraid I'm going to need to take a raincheck. Another time?"

"No problem," I reply. It wasn't a straight no, so I'm happy enough with that. "I better go, too. Have a good day."

"You too," he returns. "Are you going to the gym tonight?"

"I'd planned on it, yeah."

"I'll see you there, then."

I smile at the thought. "See you there," I echo.

"Bye."

"Bye."

I'm still grinning as I walk into the _Seattle Times_ office. I bid a cheerful good morning to Gianna—or as much of the top of her head as I can see—and giggle when she barely acknowledges me. I can imagine what she's doing, and I'm willing to bet it's not scheduling appointments.

"Good morning, Bella. You're in a good mood this morning." Alec greets me with a smile as I plop down at the desk next to his. "Did you have a nice weekend?"

My grin becomes wider. "I did, thanks for asking. How about you? Did you do anything fun?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, I found a park that has a small climbing wall. The kids loved it—I had a hard time convincing them to go home. It ended up costing me ice cream sundaes just to get them in the car."

I laugh—Alec's kids have him wrapped around their little fingers. "Where did you say the climbing wall is? Is it indoors?"

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "It was actually in a playground. It's not far from here—you should check it out. It has a soft landing surface beneath it, so I didn't have to worry about the kids breaking their limbs…" he looks at me knowingly with a twinkle in his blue eyes "…or spraining their ankles."

I chuckle, although I'm the reason for the joke. "It sounds great. So it's not far from here?"

"Only a couple of blocks."

"I don't have plans for lunch. I might check it out then. Thanks."

"No problem."

Our phones buzz at the same time—mine in my bag, Alec's on his desk. I pick mine up and swipe the unlock.

"Tanya?" he asks me.

"Tanya," I confirm. "She told me last week she was hoping to meet with Mr. Volturi. I suppose an appointment opened up this morning." I guess I'm lucky that Edward is busy—I'd never have made it to the deli and back for the rescheduled team meeting in my lunch break.

"Seems that way. I can only imagine being the CEO he might be a little hard to get hold of," he says with a chuckle. "That's okay. It'll give me a chance to tidy up this next article before this afternoon's meeting."

I agree with him and settle into my work.

-~[YD]~-

My good mood means I've had a rather productive morning. By the time lunchtime rolls around, I've made a good start on my next article. My stomach rumbles, telling me to take a break.

"Hey, Alec?" I lean back in my chair. "Would you mind giving me the directions to that playground? I want to check out that climbing wall. It might fit in with my mommy-activities series."

He gives me the address, and I tap it into my Maps application on my phone. He's right—it really is only a few blocks away. Happy that I can walk there, I pull my Chucks from my purse and put them on in place of my power heels. Lifting my purse over my shoulder, I give Alec a wave and head off.

Again, Gianna barely looks up as I walk past her desk. I shrug and step into the elevator when the door opens. Nobody's raining on my parade today.

I give myself a quiet little fist pump when I realize we must be having one of the last of Seattle's fine days before the cold weather really kicks in. I pick up the pace a little and thoroughly enjoy the walk. Some strangers seem to catch onto my good mood—a little old lady walking her dog offers me a smile and a "good day." I grin and wish her the same in return.

Alec was right—the park is not far at all. I drop into a cafe across the road from the playground and get a sandwich and a coffee to go before walking through the main entrance to the park.

It's easy to spot the playground—in fact, I hear it before I see it. The sound of happy chatter and children's laughter gets louder as I get closer. I find a bench that provides a good view and make myself comfortable.

Unwrapping my sandwich and taking a bite, I tilt my head back to bask in the dappled light. A voice interrupts.

"Bree! Be careful!" A strawberry blonde woman walks quickly after a little girl, who could be no older than six or seven. The girl's dark brown curls fly out behind her as she runs toward the playground.

"Hurry up, Mommy! I want to go on the climbing thing!"

I smile—that sounds like something I would say. The little girl reaches the wall and excitedly grabs onto the plastic shapes. She turns and looks expectantly at her mother.

"Now, honey, I said you need to wait. I'm not chasing you up there."

"But I _want_ to go on the climbing thing!" Bree's smile lights up her face. I think she knows what she can get away with.

I giggle to myself—she's a little feisty.

"I told you, Bree—"

"He's here!" Bree squeals with unrestrained excitement, tearing away from her mother who is shaking her head and smiling. The little girl throws herself at a tall man, who is perfectly prepared to catch her with his arms outstretched.

"Hi, sweetheart. Are you giving your mother a hard time?" He swings her around in a circle, Bree giggling the whole time. By this time, the strawberry blonde has caught up. "Hey," he says tenderly as he gives the blonde woman a hug. The girl is smiling widely from her perch on his hip.

I'm barely aware that I've stood up. I'm completely unsure of how I got to the edge of the playground. My sandwich has long been discarded, and my coffee has been left to go cold on the bench.

Green eyes meet mine across the strawberry blonde head. I look from him to the strawberry blonde to the little girl. The sunlight catches her hair, highlighting streaks of red, gold, and bronze. I glance back to him, and he looks like a canary caught in the gaze of a cat on the hunt.

My stomach drops to my feet—possibly out through the soles of my shoes. It feels like it's being trampled under my own feet. My throat is dry—I think my mouth is open, but I'm only aware of the tightening in my chest. I press my hand to the sore spot and rub, but the constricting doesn't ease. My feet stagger backward, and I feel as though I've been punched in the stomach.

I gasp, but I can't get enough air, and when I speak, I barely recognize my own voice.

"Edward?"

* * *

**A/N: **I wrote the final scene for this chapter _months_ ago. So many of you have been commenting that you'd love to see Bella come clean. For her to do it, she needed a trigger. Well, this is it. *Toes ground* what'd you think?

I'll do my best to get you an update by Christmas, but I'm sure you can understand that things are a little crazy at this time of year! Thanks so much for staying with me—I'm super grateful to you all.

**Some Recs:**

**Seventh and Pine** by **iambeagle**: _Soooo_ much fun! Go read it—the banter between these two is fantastic.

**The Diva Diaries** by **KiyaRaven**: I wanted to wait until it was complete and only just got around to reading it. Damn...


	16. Chapter 15: Screamer

**A/N: **Thanks to my pre-readers TwiSNFan and Louisemc86—they get my first, rather rough, chapters and are okay with that. Big thanks to my betas, RaindropSoup and mcc101180, for continuously reminding me that Americans don't say "towards," *gasp*ing in the appropriate places, and for just _getting it_...and me.

When we left Bella, she was having a bad day. Oh well. It can't get any worse, right?

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own this story.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**Screamer** - A long and loud fall.

"Bella."

I turn on my heel and run.

"Bella!"

I let the voice fade behind me and keep running. I run until my lungs feel like they're going to burst from my chest. I keep running, dodging people on the sidewalk—they look at me as if I'm crazy. I think I am. I must be. Crazy…and stupid.

_Again? _How could I be so stupid _again?_

When I'm satisfied I'm far enough away, I slow to a walk. The air burns as it forces its way down my throat. Shaking my head doesn't rid me of the images. Him. Her. The girl. _His_ girl.

My phone rings, and I press the red key below his stupid smirking face. It rings again—I repeat the action. It pings, telling me there's a voicemail. I ignore it.

I keep walking. People must be looking at me as if I'm crazy, but I don't care. The phone rings again—a different tone. Through my fog, I look down. Alice.

Alice.

She encouraged me. The lingerie. The "I should set you up."

She set me up, all right.

Alice is my friend, someone I trust, and she knew something big but decided not to share it with me.

_Oh, shit_. Surely…not again.

I falter, and I'm no longer standing on the Seattle sidewalk. I'm standing, my feet on red dirt, beside a campfire in Arizona.

.

_I poke my stick in his direction like it's a saber. Like it can save me from this craziness. "How long, Tyler?"_

_He looks at the ground. "The week after she first came climbing with us."_

_I count in my head—three months. _

_From behind me, a snide, high-pitched giggle fills the morning air. "You really had no idea? Fuck, are you _stupid?"

_I wheel around to face Jessica. She's tucked under Diego's arm; her blonde hair looks like a poorly-built bird's nest. _

_The tears threaten to burst from my eyes. I battle back and will them to stay hidden. A sob rises, lodging in my throat, and I swallow twice in an attempt to push it into my stomach. I turn to face the boy who's just broken my heart. The harlot at his side snuggles closer to him, her eyes glaring at me. Like it's _my_ fault._

_I can't look at him anymore. I definitely can't look at _her._ I turn to face Ange. She's my best friend—she'll help me get out of here._

_My dear friend opens her arms, and I walk toward them. Lauren's clear alto echos off the trees surrounding the campsite._

"_She knew too, you know. You were the only one blind enough to not see what was directly in front of your face."_

_My feet still. If I thought I couldn't breathe before, now it's near impossible. Ange's eyes give her away._

"_You knew." It's not a question._

"_Bella, I didn't think I should get involved. I wanted to tell you, but—"_

_My gaze drops to the ground as I shake my head. I'm all too aware of all of my "friends" standing around me; their stares burn into me. I run my hands through my hair and tug on it at the roots._

"_Stop talking, Ange. Just do what you've done for who knows how long—say nothing."_

_I look back up at her. I shouldn't have. Now I can see the pity in her eyes. _

_Fuck pity. I'm devastated. I'm humiliated._

_I'm furious._

_I stride purposefully toward my tent. Dropping my knees to the dirt and lifting the door-flap, I grab at my sleeping bag, sleeping mat, clothes, and shoes. With an armful of stuff, I hurry to my truck and throw it all into the cabin. I ferry back and forth between my truck and the tent, hurling stuff from the canvas to the cabin. I yank the tent pegs from the ground, possibly tearing the thin fabric of the tent in the process. I don't care if it rips—it suits how I'm feeling right now. I ball it up and toss it into my truck._

_As I rush about, my audience doesn't move. They don't speak. They're watching me dash across the campsite from truck to tent, and I'm sure they can see me fighting tears the whole way._

_Next to the flattened grass where my—our—tent sat is Tyler's pack. It's the last thing remaining from the gear we packed together for our weekend here. I hoist it up onto my shoulder and walk toward him. He's by the steadily turning campfire, holding on to _her_._

_I position myself on the opposite side of the fire and stare into his eyes across the flames. As he avoids my gaze, everything drops into place. The reality of my epiphany dries my tears. I've always been the sweet girl. Compliant. One of the guys. The girl who helps everybody out—always making sure everyone is taken care of—while in return, they take advantage of me. _

_Not anymore._

"_Bella, I'm sorry."_

_My voice is as clear as my mind. "Fuck you, Tyler."_

_I drop his bag into the blaze, turn on my heel, and walk to my truck. _

_I'm done._

.

The ringing phone jolts me back from my memories. This time, I answer.

"Alice."

"Bella? Where are you? Edward called me."

_Huh._ "I bet he did."

"What's wrong? I'm coming to find you."

"Why?" I swallow the lump that's rising in my throat. "So you can laugh?"

"Huh?"

"Does the name Bree mean anything to you?"

She pauses. "How do you know about Bree?"

"I saw her with my own eyes."

I hear her exhale. "So, he told you then?"

"He didn't need to. I mean, it's fairly obvious."

"What is?"

"I saw her mom, too."

"Kate?"

So, that's her name. "How could _you_ not have told me?"

"Told you what? Bel—"

I hit _end_ before she can say anything more. I look up and realize that while I've been walking, I've made it back to the office. Maybe I should ditch my stuff and go home—all I want to do is curl into a ball and hide from the world. My phone chimes, and I make a motion to ignore whoever is calling this time. It's not a call though, but a reminder to tell me that my team meeting is starting in ten minutes.

_Fuck it._

Walking through the lobby to the elevator doors, I take in my reflection on the shiny surface. The girl looking back at me appears sad and defeated. My heart weeps for her…and then it hardens.

The doors slide open, and I step in to the empty elevator. I turn around and angrily punch the button for the seventh floor.

_When did I become a victim? _I look at my phone again, turn it off, and throw it back in my bag.

_Am I going to let myself be walked all over? Again?_ I take out a tube of pale pink lip gloss from my bag then, after examining it, put it back and exchange it for a deep-red lipstick Alice gave me last week. Using the mirror on the wall of the elevator, I paint the color over my lips, pressing them together.

_No more "nice girl."_ I straighten my shoulders and feel that familiar veil of armor slip over my body from head to toe. I feel it shimmer and strengthen, coating my body in an impenetrable force field and protecting my heart. It worked in Arizona—it'll work here.

The doors open, and ignoring Gianna, I stride to my desk. I switch my Chucks for my power-heels, grab my notebook, and click-clack my way to the conference room. I'm last to arrive, and avoiding everyone's eyes, I take a seat at the far end of the table from Tanya.

"Thanks for accepting the reschedule, guys," Tanya greets us. "Now, down to business. How has everybody's week been?"

I doodle on my notebook as my colleagues discuss their projects. At some stage, I catch Tanya watching me out of the corner of my eye. I return my gaze to my notebook and examine where the ink from my pen has bled into the grains on the page. The sound of my name makes me look up.

"Sorry?"

James' smarmy, ice-blue stare is set on me. "I said…" he draws the words out, as if I'm too dumb to understand "…how was your _trip?_ I mean, it must have been good—we didn't see you in the office at all this week."

My lungs squash my breath at the mention of the trip—before I slip the armor on again. I talk of the trip as if it's just business. "The trip was fine. There was a storm and we got rained in, but we managed to do some climbing on Saturday."

He sniggers. "Sounds like there wasn't much point to it all, doesn't it." His next sentence is made under his breath. "Glad the _Times_ forked out for you and your little friends to take a vacation."

This time it's Tanya who speaks up. "Not that it's any of your business, James, but the _Times_ wasn't required to pay the whole time Bella and her group was there. The owner has indicated they won't be charging for the full amount because the property wasn't completely maintained—the stream that flooded should not have broken its banks."

I'm still grateful to Mrs. Young for waiving the full fee. Charlie was right about her—she is a sweet lady.

James snorts. "You _would_ defend her."

The room goes quiet. Tanya places her pen on the table in front of her and folds her hands. When she speaks, her tone is incredulous. "Excuse me?"

"You _girls_ have to stick together, right?" he remarks snidely.

Alec interrupts. "Now, James, I don't think that's fair—"

"Oh, shut up, Alec. Just because you're fucking whipped."

The anger I've been trying to keep a lid on is bubbling. "What exactly is your problem, James?"

He levels his sneer at me. "My_ problem_…is that bitches like you think they can waltz in and take the fuck over."

I press my palms to the table and stand up. "_What?"_

He slowly draws himself up to his full height—even across the table, he towers over me. "You heard me. You know she" —he jerks his greasy head in Tanya's direction— "only hired you because you're _female_." He spits the word like it tastes bad in his mouth.

"That's ridiculous." Tanya's calm voice breaks through the air. "I hired her because she's a great writer."

"Shut your tits, you stupid whore."

The others in the room let out a collective gasp. James is so worked up that I can see sweat beading on his forehead. Disgusting dark patches spread through his shirt under his armpits. The rest of the team jumps in.

"Dude…"

"James, I think you've gone too far…"

"Calm down, buddy..."

Me? I'm beyond calm. I'm _way_ past the point of calm. My voice is low, level, and seeps with fury. "How _dare_ you speak to her like that."

He snickers. "You're right. To be a whore, it means she'd actually have to open her legs. I apparently wasn't _good enough_ for the frigid bitch, so I can imagine she hasn't been fucked in years." He strides around the table, making a move for the door, but I block his path.

"You are _completely_ out of line. Where the hell do you think you get off talking to _anyone_ like that? _Especially_ at work?"

Continuing with his rude and obnoxious behavior, he laughs in my face. "She can't fire me. _You_ can't _get_ me fired. So step the fuck back, little girl."

I press my fists into my sides and hold my ground. Slowly I feel all of the rage I have in me rolling into an angry, glowing ball. I swallow it, feel it simmer, and speak to him in a cold, quiet voice with my chin raised. "Really? Watch me, asshole."

James has clearly lost all touch with reality and what's acceptable in any kind of public forum. He grabs me—one hand pressed into my shoulder, the other in my throat—and pushes me back into the wall. My head hits it with a thud.

"Listen, bitch," he spits out, his face close to mine. "You can't tell me what the fuck to do. _Nobody_ pushes me around."

The angry ball in my chest swells, glows hotter, then splinters. I become aware of it ripping through my coiled muscles as it explodes—tiny, burning fragments coursing through my entire body. I lift my power-heel and drive it downward as hard as I can. James screams then falters—his grip weakens and I take advantage, drawing my knee into his groin. He groans, tears in his eyes, as he sinks to the ground.

I look at the shocked faces of my team members. James is writhing on the floor, moaning. As I look down at him, the enormity of what I've done hits home.

I've just assaulted one of my colleagues.

_I am so, _so_ fired._

-~[YD]~-

I'm curled in an armchair by the window in my apartment. The blanket I have wrapped around me is doing nothing to calm the occasional shakes that still rattle through me. The glass of wine I poured for myself rests untouched on the side table—I couldn't swallow it around the lump in my throat.

Outside, the sky is dark, and the rain that set in after I left work beats at the window. It's quite fitting, really. I mean, it's almost as if the sky is one huge mood ring for my own emotions.

My own tears have dried up, and now I just feel numb. After my…moment in the conference room, I left Eric to help pick James up from the floor—neither Tanya or Alec seemed inclined to do so. Then, I calmly walked back to my desk, cleared up all of my stuff—not that I had much—and left the office without speaking to anybody. I felt completely alone.

Not even Gianna was at her normal sentry post to call out a greeting or a friendly "thanks for working here, you psycho."

As soon as I'd arrived home, I changed into my softest pajamas, poured my wine, and set up post by the window. I've sat here all afternoon and replayed my whole day over and over in my head.

I have to admit it's a fairly epic effort. In the space of just a few hours, I've lost my job, my friend, and my maybe-something. My heart twists in my chest, but there are no more tears left to fall.

When I think of the Bulldozer, I feel every betrayal I've experienced. While we hadn't put a definitive label on what we had, it certainly felt like _something. _These past few weeks, he's been super-attentive and I felt so safe in his arms. Now it just feels like one big lie.

I pull my knees closer to my chest in an attempt to stop the pressure that feels like is crushing me from the inside out. My stomach growls, but I pay it no mind. I can't imagine eating anything right now.

I'll fully admit it—I'm wallowing.

A sharp rapping sound comes from my front door, jolting me from my thoughts. Just when I'm sure I imagined it, it happens again.

I wrap the blanket tighter around me, the rough fabric tickling slightly under my chin, and trudge to the door. Standing on my tiptoes, I peek through the peephole.

"Bella?"

I drop back to my heels, unsure of whether or not I should answer.

"Bella, I know you're there. I can see your shadow. Open the door."

I reluctantly place one hand on the doorknob and pause. Maybe if I don't move, she'll leave.

"Bella, if you don't open the door, I'm going to call Emmett to break it down. He watches too many cop shows, and you know how much he'd love to go all SWAT-team on your door."

I take a big breath and let it out with a noisy sigh. I twist the handle and pull the door open. Rose is standing there, lit by the hall light, holding a bag that seems to contain some takeout. Her blonde hair falls around her face and down over her shoulders like some kind of humanized halo.

"Bella?"

I feel my lip tremble, and some extra tears that I thought had been hiding force their way out with a sob.

"Oh, honey," I hear her murmur as she wraps her arms around me. I bury my face into her neck and let the tears fall.

After a few minutes, she speaks softly. "Sweetie? Can we move inside?"

I nod and step aside. Rose keeps an arm around my shoulders and, after closing the door, guides us into my apartment. I curl myself into a ball in one corner of the couch, and she takes the other. Looking at me seriously, she reaches to grasp my hands in hers.

"Are you ready to tell me what's wrong?" she asks. "Alice and Edward have both called me, but I'd rather hear it from you."

I snort-sob and the tears start again, my breath coming in heaves as I try to speak. "I…lunch…park…Bulldozer…daughter…wife?…work…asshole…kneed him…balls…fired…_aloooone!" _I wail into the tissue that Rose has passed me.

"Sweetie? I'm going to need you to tell me that again." She looks at me earnestly, her blue eyes wide with concern. "Except…maybe use full sentences this time, okay?"

I take a deep breath—I'm going to have to get this out quickly because the pain is too much. "I asked Edward to lunch and he said he couldn't go because he was busy, and then I went to the park to see a climbing wall and a girl was there with her mom, and then he came and _she's his daughter!" _

I take a deep breath and continue before she can interrupt. "And then I went back to work and Alice called and I hung up on her because she knew and didn't tell me and it happened _again_—just like in Arizona! And then a guy at work was an asshole so I kicked him in the balls and now I'm _fired_ and nobody is going to hire me _ever again_ and I have _nobody!" _By this stage, the tears fall readily again and I'm wailing. "Now I'm all _alooone!"_

"Oh, honey." Rosalie wraps her arms around me and lets me cry. I vaguely hear her say words, but none of them mean anything. I sob and sob and sob until I fall asleep.

-~[YD]~-

I'm aware that I'm on my couch. My blanket has been straightened and tucked around me. When I sit up, I rub the ridges on my face that have been pressed there by the texture of the cushion. My eyes burn, and when I try to rub them, they feel swollen.

I reach for my water bottle that rests on the coffee table and drink greedily. I have a niggling headache, probably because I cried myself to sleep and haven't eaten properly since breakfast.

The clock on the wall tells me it's nine o'clock. I have no idea how long I've been asleep. From the direction of the kitchen, I can hear Rosalie speaking in hushed tones.

"I can't let you do that," she's saying. "No, I'm serious. She was really upset. I've never seen anyone completely break down like that—it was scary." I feel awkward for eavesdropping, but not too bad, considering the conversation seems to be about me.

"Now? She's asleep. Do you have any idea the kind of day she's had? Oh _no, _you wouldn't, because you just let her go!" She sounds seriously pissed off—I'm so glad she's on my side.

"Did you even tell her?…Why the hell not? We're talking about a big part of your life here, Edward…Mhmm…"

At the sound of his name, my insides turn to stone. I gingerly make my way to the kitchen and pause in the doorway.

Rose turns in my direction. "I have to go. Bella's awake…I'll ask her…okay. Bye." She places her phone on the counter and walks toward me, drawing me into a hug. "How are you feeling?"

"Wiped." My throat feels like sandpaper when I speak.

"Here, let me get you something to eat and drink. Go sit on the couch. I'll be there in a minute."

I return to the couch, wrap myself in my blanket, and finish off my water bottle. Rose appears a few moments later with some apple juice and a bowl of reheated noodles. I take them from her, only realizing now how hungry I am—my sandwich from lunch is sitting on a bench in the park. I nibble gingerly at the noodles as Rose takes a deep breath.

"Bella, while you were napping you were talking in your sleep. Now feel free to tell me if I'm overstepping the mark…but…do you want to tell me about Tyler?"

My shoulders drop, and I look at Rose's earnest gaze. I put down the bowl and grip my glass of apple juice a little firmer in both hands.

"You know, Rose, I think I do."

-~[YD]~-

When I finish talking, I feel much, _much_ better. This is the first time I've verbalized to anyone what happened in Arizona. After I left that campsite, I never said any of their names out loud again. I told my parents that Tyler and I broke up but spared them the details. I'd hoped that if I didn't speak about it, I'd save myself the shame of being unaware that I'm completely blind and totally stupid.

After saying it all out loud, I suppose I wasn't _completely_ stupid. The reality of it didn't sound nearly as bad as I'd made it to be in my mind.

I guess I really had been dragging that shit around for a while.

The whole time, Rose remained seated on the couch, her face completely impassive, with her chin resting on her bridged fingers.

I shrug. "So yeah. In a nutshell, my boyfriend cheated on me, and my best friend knew about it but didn't tell me. I was the last to know."

Rose slowly rises from her position, squares her shoulders, and takes a deep breath.

"What a fucking whore-bag, slut-faced, penis-nosed _bitch! _And don't even start me on that so-called fucking _friend_ of yours, because she's just as bad! And this Tyler asshole? I've got a mind to drive myself to Arizona and kick his scrawny ass!"

She's stalking back and forth in my living room like a caged panther. Come to think of it, I think the panther would look like a kitten next to Rose—it wouldn't be able to claw its way through the bars. By the look of Rosalie right now, she'd put one finger on the cage and rip it to shreds.

"Actually, Tyler was pretty well built..."

"Then I'll get Emmett to do it! Fucking hell, Bella, why didn't you tell us this earlier?" She's pulling at her hair and ranting in a rather un-Rose-like fashion. Gone is the calm, sweet-voiced therapist—this Rose is about kicking asses and taking names.

She's pretty scary.

I fist the bottom of my shirt, avoiding her gaze. "I don't know, Rose. I just thought if you heard what a loser I am—"

"What?" My eyes snap to the incredulous expression on her face. "_What?! _You didn't tell us because you believe we'd think any of this is _your_ fault?"

I shrug again, keeping my eyes on my blanket.

"There's no way, Bella. It's not your fault. None of this has anything to do with you. And that bitch's _friend? _The one that called _you_ stupid? GAH!" She's pacing again. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with those self-centered psychos?!"

"Rose…"

She sits on the edge of the couch, takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes. She exhales slowly, muttering about happy places and cleansing energy. When she looks at me again, her eyes have lost the wild edge and her face has softened.

_How the hell did she do that?_

"Bella," she says to me, her clear blue eyes now as calm as the ocean. "You have to know—we love you. None of us would ever do anything like that to you."

I feel my shoulders start to droop—although I've slept for hours, I'm emotionally worn down. Rose gently takes my hand and pulls me to a standing position. I sway slightly. "Come on, hun," she says, helping to keep me steady on my feet. "Get some sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning. You'll see."

-~[YD]~-

When I wake, my body is weary and my eyes are dry and tired. I feel like I've run a marathon—or a couple of blocks while bawling my eyes out. I drag myself out of bed, take my time in the shower, and swallow two mouthfuls of toast before tossing it in the trash.

Feeling my stomach churn, I decide to get a little clarity. When my world was twisted upside down in Arizona, I fled. I ran as far as I could, stayed on my own, and made no connection with my life. Right now, connection feels important—I need to sort through this mess. I like it here. But before I talk to anyone, I need to take some time to think this through rationally. So I decide to return to the scene of the crime, so to speak.

Besides, it's not like I have a job to go to.

Half an hour later, I wander into the deli I visited only yesterday, but my order today is just coffee. Warming my hands on the cup and blowing the steam that swirls from the hole in the lid, I cross the street and enter the gates to the park.

As I walk, the air feels like it has shifted since yesterday. It's cool and the morning is clear. I wrap my jacket tighter around myself as I walk.

It takes only a few minutes to reach the bench near the playground, but when I get there, it's already occupied. I start to look for another place to sit and contemplate when a deep, slightly gruff voice interrupts.

"You could sit here if you like. I don't bite."

I turn back to the man. He's sitting with his legs outstretched, but he straightens when I take a tentative step toward him. One hand holds a coffee cup the same as mine while the other rests in his lap. I hold my cup up slightly to indicate we match.

"Good coffee?" I ask conversationally.

"Eh," he replies, his tone non-committal. "It's not so bad."

I gingerly sit on the opposite end of the bench and look toward the playground. It's quiet—I suppose it's too early for parents to bring their little ones just yet.

It seems he's not a conversationalist either, so I sit quietly and listen to the distant sounds of the city beyond the mostly quiet space of the park. The only interruption is the _crunch, crunch, crunch_ of a runner's feet hitting the gravel on the other side of the playground, the breeze whistling quietly through the trees above, or the creak of wood as my bench-mate shifts in his seat.

_It's so peaceful here._

"Yeah, not too many places to be found in the city like this." The man sips his coffee, and I blush a little knowing I spoke out loud. "It gets louder once the little ones turn up, but it's good to enjoy the quiet until they do."

I sip my own coffee and nod. "I know it's cliché, but do you come here often?"

"Yeah. I used to come all the time, but…" The man rubs his chin, placing his coffee down to do so. The hair of his short beard makes a scratchy sound against his hand. "Not so much these days."

"I just found this place yesterday," I say absently as I trace the writing on my cup with one finger. "A friend told me it was a great place to bring kids."

"Do you have any?" he asks. "Kids?"

I shake my head. "No. Do you?"

He smiles, although it's slightly sad. "One. A little girl." He sighs quietly. "I don't see her as much as I'd like these days though." He smiles at my questioning face. "She lives with her mom. My wife and I are separated."

I'm unsure of what to say to that, but silence seems weird. "Oh."

The man seems unperturbed and continues speaking. "Yeah, I fucked up. She sees more of my best friend than me." He laughs once, without humor. "Hell, I don't see him anymore either. I fucked that up, too."

I stay quiet a moment before I remark, "I know what you mean." He quirks an eyebrow at me and tilts his head slightly. "About messing up. There's this guy, and well…he's got kids—one, I think. I didn't know. He didn't tell me."

The man nods in sympathy. "It's usually the things that are unsaid that cause more trouble than the things that are."

Taking another sip from my coffee, I consider his words. "I guess you're right."

He holds his cup toward mine, and I touch my own gently against it. "I know I'm right," he says confidently. "I've had a lot of time to think these past few years."

I try to lighten the conversation with this stranger who has suddenly grown very serious. "Tell me about her. Your little girl."

He grins again, and his face relaxes—it suits him. "She's beautiful. She got her mother's looks, my mother's hair, and my stubborn nature." He nods toward the climbing wall. "She loves that thing."

My heart clenches a little in my chest at the memory of Edward's girl, giggling as she tried to climb to the top. "I can imagine she would."

With a deep sigh and a rub of his beard—cup placed down to do so—he speaks, and his tone is a little wistful. "I used to take her camping and hiking. I read to her every night—those Dr. Seuss books mostly. She loved _Green Eggs and Ham._" He sweeps the ground in front of him with his foot, making an arc in the gravel. "I didn't appreciate what I had 'til it was too late."

I'm taken aback by the intensity that this stranger has in his eyes as he shifts to look directly at me. "Don't let it be too late for you. If you have to say I'm sorry, you fucking do it. Don't turn into a selfish, bitter bastard like me."

I peel at the plastic lid of my cup, ripping the small drinking hole into a gaping tear. "What if the damage is already done?"

"Grovel," he says, as if it's obvious. "Give him a chance to explain. It's never too late."

I think about what he said. There could be a million and one reasons why Edward didn't tell me about Bree. Maybe he and Bree's mom are separated. He doesn't wear a wedding ring, so maybe they never married. It doesn't strike me as Edward's style though—I imagine he'd be the type of guy to marry a girl if he knocked her up.

Then there's me. I've hardly been completely honest. I've been blaming Edward for not telling me about Bree, and I haven't even mentioned Tyler's name. I've avoided conversations about exes and given no explanation at all as to why I'm skittish about relationships. When it comes to my past, Rose is the only person in Seattle who knows—which is fucked up because Edward is the one I want.

I'm a fucking idiot. And worse—I'm a hypocrite.

I look back at my bench-mate, who has gone back to staring at the empty playground. "You're right. I should."

He nods and drains his coffee, screwing his face up at the taste of the final bitter mouthful. "Damn right you should. Don't miss out on your chance at happiness. I lost my wife, my daughter, and my best friend—all because I made one epically stupid choice." He huffs, tapping the hollow cup with his fingers. "One stupid choice I let other people blame themselves for."

With a glance at the man beside me, I make a decision—I don't want to be like that. I don't want to blame anyone else for my actions. And I'm no longer going to take the blame for anyone else's—namely Tyler and Lauren's—either.

Feeling the sudden urge to call Edward, I stand and dust off the back of my jeans. "Hey, thanks." I extend my hand. "My name's Bella."

He places his cup down and extends his left hand to shake my right. "Nice to meet you, Bella. I'm Garrett." My heart lurches as he releases my palm, turning my hand over to inspect the scarred skin. He looks back up at me and gives me a knowing smirk. "Rock climber?"

The word almost comes out as a whisper. "Yes." I swallow and ask the question, although I think I know the answer. "You?"

He shakes his head. "Used to be." He releases my hand, and picks up his own right wrist. He lifts it and lets it drop uselessly back into his lap. "Not anymore."

I take an involuntary step back and try to keep my voice steady—my previously stone-like insides have turned to an oozy liquid and are swirling in my body like a lava lamp. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Garrett. Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime." He resumes his staring at the playground.

I begin to walk toward the gate when I stop. Turning back, I ask, "Hey, Garrett?"

He looks up.

"What's your daughter's name?"

He smiles, and it's that same, proud-parent grin he wore earlier. "Bree."

The lava lamp goes into overdrive. "And your wife?"

His tone is quieter. It's the voice of a man speaking of lost love. "Kate."

I close my eyes, and mentally kick myself. Hard. "You should make sure you're there to read Bree a story tonight. Oh, and one more thing…"

He tilts his head.

"Call your friend. I think you owe him an apology, too."

* * *

**A/N: **Do we feel better about Edward now? There was some serious _WTF?!_ing going on after the last chapter. Get out your kneepads, Bella, because you've got some grovelling to do! (What did you think I meant? *gasp* Dirty girls!)

I hope everyone had a great Christmas! Chances are I won't get an update to you next week...my hubby has a few weeks holiday (vacation?) and I'm making the most of the time we have together as a family. Also, I keep deleting and re-writing, and I want to make sure the chapter I get to you is the absolute best possible one I can.

Thank you so much for making my first attempt at fanfic such an amazing experience. I'm definitely listing it as one of the highlights of my year, including all of the amazing ladies I've met through the process. See you in 2013! *Cue fireworks!*

**Recs:**

Here's a bunch of recs to keep you busy. Thanks to the girls who pinged me some sweet short stories last week when I needed them. Do you have any more? Leave your current _must read_ in the reviews so everyone can share. I'll collate them and stick them as a doc in my facebook group—the link is on my profile! See? If I can't get you an update, I'll make sure you have _something_ to keep you busy!

**The Right Guy** by **ThatEnglishWriter** - it's short and complete. This poor Bella has some really bad luck with guys.

**Cursive** by **Phoebe44** - Also complete. I like a fic with a twist, and this one had a good one.

**Frontline **by **MissAlex** - _Almost_ complete. A few decent cliffies at the end of chapters, including the most recent chappy. Eeep!

**The Other Side of the Fence** by **Edward's Eternal - **I'm so intrigued by this one. A WIP, but it updates regularly. Also, it's awesome.

**Negative Twenty and Falling** by **Katinki** - a O/S that is just _so freaking adorable_.

**Two Words** by **spanglemaker9** - another sweet O/S.

**Without Reserve** by **DH78** - Re-read this very recently. I'll just say..._ Awwwwww!_

**Christmas Stalkings** by **Quietruby** - Last minute Christmas shopping leads to something more.


	17. Chapter 16: Pumped

**A/N: **I'm ba-ack! Thanks so much for not flouncing me. Believe me—if i'd updated a few weeks back, I probably would have sent Chalky off a cliff and the Dozer tumbling after her. So thanks to you all for your patience.

Big thanks to Louisemc86 for reading. Love to my dear friend TwiSNfan, your support and assurance that you'll write anything I write helped me get this chapter done already. To RaindropSoup: thank you for reminding me to post true to the story, rather than just get any old thing out. And mcc101180: your comments and just knowing that you're there gives me confidence.

Lastly to the Bulldozer Babes: The serious conversations about the values and perils of naked rock climbing give a girl many a laugh.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own the 20,000 words it took to produce this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

**Pumped - **A feeling of anticipation and energy before a challenging climb.

My feet crunch on the gravel of the path as I make my way out of the park. The crunches begin to blend together as I increase my pace. A conversation with a stranger in a park has given me the mother of all epiphanies, and it's like the floodgates have opened—all the things I've left unsaid need to come out. I need to talk to Edward.

As I hurry through the park, I mentally kick myself at my own double standards. I've been so worried that Edward hasn't been honest with me, and I've completely neglected to mention my own demons. He's trusted me with the reasons for his guilt, which have haunted him for years, and my own secret has nothing on his.

My asshole ex cheated on me; my friends lied to me. The man I just left behind in the park is unable to hold a cup of coffee in both hands, and his best friend lives with the misconceived notion that he is the one to blame.

I want to give myself one of Rose's special slaps upside my head. I've been letting my past color my present completely—which doesn't leave much choice for my future. I wasn't raised to be untrusting. Being the daughter of a cop, I was brought up to trust my sensibilities, to walk into a situation with my eyes wide open. It's okay to let experience shape interpretations, but to let it completely cloud reality? That just makes a person hamstrung.

As I reach the park exit, I pull my phone from my bag and toss my empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can. The moment it powers up, it dings, over and over…and over. Missed call after missed call. Message after message. Edward, Alice, Rose, Rose, Edward, Tanya, Alec, Edward.

I open the first message, hand over heart because I'm afraid this'll hurt…and the screen fades to black.

"Dammit!" I mutter to myself, tossing my phone back into my bag in disgust. While I was too busy wallowing in my own drama last night, I forgot to put it to charge.

My truck starts with a roar, and I hightail it home, staying within the speed limit because I'm sure Chief Dad has eyes even here in Seattle. My heart pounds as I scale the stairs, and as soon as I've burst through my door, I grab my phone and throw my keys and bag somewhere in the vague vicinity of the hallstand.

I plug my phone in to the outlet near the kitchen counter and drum my fingers impatiently on the countertop, one hand perched on my hip.

"Come on, come on…" I implore the device, as if it's able to hear me and obey my orders. They say a watched pot never boils. I suppose a watched phone never charges. With an exasperated sigh, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and settle myself on a stool, my chin resting in my hand as I eyeball the phone.

After what seems like forever, it has enough charge to power up. I immediately dive to my messages. My heart clenches when I select Edward's.

**Bella, I think I get it. Please call me. I can explain everything. -E**

**I hope you give me a chance to explain. I really do care about you. No more secrets. -E **

**Rose told me you're sleeping. I hope to hear from you tomorrow. Sweet dreams. -E xo**

My heart leaps at the two characters at the end of the last message, and I hit the number listed under "Bulldozer" and listen to it ring. The other messages can wait. A glance at the kitchen clock tells me he'll likely be at work, but maybe I'll be able to leave a message.

Edward answers, and he sounds hesitant. "Bella?"

I attempt to make my voice sound normal. "Hi, Edward."

His words come out with his breath, relief coloring his words. "I was afraid you wouldn't call."

"Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"I've got a few minutes. Look, Bella, about the park—"

I close my eyes at the memory. "I know. Bree's not your daughter."

His voice is strained. "I had a feeling that's what you probably thought. I know it must have looked that way, but you have to know—I would have definitely told you something like that."

It suddenly seems horribly impersonal to be having such a serious conversation over the phone. "Is it okay if we meet up? I want to explain why I overreacted."

"Sure," he replies. "How about drinks tonight? There's a good bar near your work."

I can't hold in the snort that escapes. "You mean my ex-work…if that's even a word."

"Ex-work?" he says sounding surprised. "Did you quit?"

My head lowers to the counter, landing with a thud. "Not exactly. But I don't think I work there anymore." I swallow the lump that appears and lift my head. No point in wallowing. "So. Drinks. What time?"

"About five-thirty? We can grab a bite afterward if you're feeling up to it."

"Sounds perfect."

We say our goodbyes and hang up, and the phone chimes soon after with the address. A glance at my watch tells me I've got a few hours to kill—and I'm too chicken to check the rest of my messages—so I tidy my kitchen and straighten the living room. My laptop sits on the coffee table, mocking me.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, I flip it open and run my fingers over the keys as it wakes up. Reaching into the front pocket of my laptop bag, I pull out the flash drive I stashed there when I left the office in such a hurry. Alec had taken a glance over one of my articles, and considering it's written, I figure I should finish it and send it to Tanya. Maybe it'll be my last article for _The Times._

I slot the drive in and notice an extra folder pop up next to the document holding my article. I can't remember putting it there, so I click to open it. It appears to be full of pictures.

Opening them in my photo viewer, I find my chest tightening as I peruse through them. They're photos from the trip.

The folder is full of memories. There's Jasper's invented move to try to make the next hold. There's me, attempting the same move in my own fashion. A self-portrait of Alice, the edge of her arm visible as she smiles into the camera, with Jake's toothy grin evident as he leans over her shoulder. I laugh out loud when I come across another self-portrait of what I'm sure is Emmett's ass. Another photo of Emmett, grinning as he holds up a tube of Krazy Glue and giving a thumbs-up to the camera. Rosalie laughing as she belays someone. Edward sitting on a log, smirking at the camera and raising an eyebrow. I find myself smiling in response.

It's the final one that makes me pause though. It's a picture that Leah took right before we left the crag. It's of all of us—Rose, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, Jake, Edward, and me. We're all standing, arms around shoulders and resting on waists, smiling into the camera. All except for one. Edward is watching me.

I save this photo to my desktop.

~-[YD]~-

When I call Tanya back, she doesn't answer. It doesn't even ring—the call goes straight to voice mail. I leave a message telling her I'm returning her call and ask her to call me back. I consider leaving an apology over the phone for my behavior in the office but figure it's probably a conversation best done when I can actually speak to her.

I shoot a quick text to Alec, thanking him for his message, then pick up my phone to make the next call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Alice."

"Hey, B," she replies in a soft voice. "How are you?"

My voice is as soft as hers. "Really sorry?"

"You sure did jump to the wrong conclusion pretty quickly."

"I know," I reply, twisting a piece of hair around my finger. "I'm an idiot."

"You are," she responds with a strained laugh. "You really think so little of us?"

"It's not that," I reply quickly, gazing at the picture on my laptop. "Not at all. I just wanted to say that I treated you rudely and that I'm sorry."

"I'm not an unreasonable person, Bella," Alice continues. "Next time you have a problem, please talk to me instead of assuming we're all out to get you. Not all of us are like your stupid friends in Arizona."

"Rose told you?" If that's the case, I'm glad. I don't see it as gossip, because I know she did it for good reason.

"Someone had to. And you weren't speaking to me."

"That makes sense," I reply. "Let me make it up to you?"

"Of course. You're taking me out for a manicure next week. _And_ lunch."

"Done."

Her tone is much lighter. "Good. Now, have you spoken to Edward?"

"I have. I'm meeting him for drinks"—I glance at the clock—"really soon, actually."

"Good. Hey, I've gotta run. Wear your black v-neck sweater tonight. He likes you in that. And call me tomorrow. I heard about James…"

I cringe. I'm probably the subject of office gossip. "Will do. And, Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For being a great friend and for everything you've done for me since I've lived here. I don't think I've said that before."

Alice's voice softens. "Of course, sweetie. We love you, you know. Despite the fact you're a conclusion-jumper."

I giggle. "Gym on Thursday?"

"For sure. See you then."

We hang up, and I toss my phone into my bag. I get myself presentable to go to a bar, opting for skinny jeans, boots, and the black v-neck sweater Alice suggested. After throwing on my coat and grabbing my stuff, I lock up my apartment and head down to my truck.

"Come on," I coax the truck gently. "Come on, come on…" The truck responds with a pathetic groan. I make my tone a little more forceful. "Come on, truck. Don't do this to me today. I have somewhere to be."

The truck splutters in one final act of defiance. When I turn the key again, it simply makes a clicking sound.

I rest my forehead against the steering wheel in defeat. "I'm breaking up with you, truck." The truck lets me know what it thinks of that when my head slips, hitting the horn. The blast shocks me into sitting back upright.

"Fucking typical," I mutter. Resisting the urge to flip off my truck—because that might be completely overstepping the boundary into crazy-town—and yanking my phone out of my bag, I bring up the bus timetable and realize there's one in five minutes. I get out of the truck, slamming the door behind me in disgust, and don't even bother locking it. Maybe someone will do me a favor and steal it.

I walk as quickly as I can, my boots making a hollow click on the sidewalk as I stride. I sit down at the bus stop, again silently cursing my truck for abandoning me in my hour of need. Because I consider meeting with Edward a need.

The bus is crowded, seemingly filled with the after-work crowd and school kids on their way home from after-school activities. I find a seat, look out the window, and try not to make eye contact with the smelly guy sitting opposite of me.

"You headed downtown?" he asks. If stinky BO had a sound, this guy's voice would be it.

"Yes," I reply. It's better than making a snarky comment about that being where the bus is heading. I check the time on my phone—I'm already late.

"Somewhere to be?" he asks, unperturbed by my short answer. I simply nod and resume staring out the window. "Yeah, me too," he continues. I hold in my eye roll.

It's not long before I can't take any more. I've heard, in detail, all about the boil he had lanced last week, his sister-in-law's visit, and the fortnightly trips he needs to make to the vet to have his Jack Russell's nether regions attended to. On the verge of vomiting, I get off the bus the second the door opens three stops early.

I urge my feet to move as fast as my boots will carry me, and by the time I arrive at the bar, I'm sweating like a pig and out of breath. The hostess gives me a wry look and asks if she can help me.

"I'm meeting someone," I begin, my eyes scanning the room in the hope he's still here. I spot his recognizable hair across the top of a booth and breathe a sigh of relief. "No matter, I see him. Thanks."

Resisting the temptation to dash over and throw myself at him, I walk with feigned calm toward the booth and hope along the way that my knees will stop shaking. As the conversation where he shared his history with Garrett was pivotal in our relationship, I have a feeling this will be the same.

The waitress is standing beside him. She's holding a tray daintily in one hand; her hip is jauntily pushed out. The other arm is wrapped around her waist—well, more like her ribcage. She looks like she's trying to push her boobs up as high as she can. She smiles sickly-sweet at him, a tongue ring teasing along her teeth. Her efforts are wasted—he's not even looking at her.

"Edward?" I interrupt her blatant eye-fucking, my words coming out breathily. The waitress gives me a fleeting glance as Edward snaps his head up to look at me.

He smiles, almost as if he's laughing a little. He orders a drink, and I do the same. When he holds out his hand, indicating that I should sit, I slip into the booth and let myself sink into the leather, dropping my bag and coat on the bench beside me. I immediately spot a half-empty pitcher of water and clean glass on the table and pour as I speak.

"I'm so sorry I'm late." My voice rasps, and I quickly drain the water glass and refill it. "Thanks for meeting me," I tell him earnestly. "I didn't want to have this conversation over the phone."

His face drops a little. "Bella, I—"

I cut him off—I'm almost frightened to hear what he has to say. "Please." Feeling the sudden need to touch him, I shift my bag and move closer to him. I grab his hands, immediately feeling calmer at the contact. "Let me just say this."

He glances at our hands quickly but doesn't speak. His nod indicates that I should continue.

"First of all, I owe you an apology." A dry laugh escapes my lips, because that statement is utterly absurd. I correct myself. "I owe you_ several_ apologies. But I hope once I've explained myself, things will make more sense." He nods again but doesn't interrupt. I press on. "When I saw you at the park, I thought Bree was your daughter. I freaked out because I thought you were hiding something pretty big from me, and my automatic reaction was to run."

"You _did_ run," he clarifies, staring at our hands.

I wince because he's right. "I know. Fuck, this is hard." I'm saved by the waitress when our drinks arrive. I sip from my Cherry Coke, enjoying the feeling of the bubbles popping in my mouth and the instant sugar hit. Honesty is probably the best policy. "I have some…trust issues."

He glances at me, his expression pained. "Bella, I don't think I've given you any reason not to trust me."

"I know, I know. It's just…I mean…In Arizona…I…there was…I…my ex…" I'm babbling. I came to have an adult, mature conversation, and I can't spit the fucking words out. This is completely ridiculous—why can't I just say it? I want a do-over.

One look into his sea-green eyes gives me the courage I need. He's exactly what Tyler wasn't. I clear my throat and just say it. "My ex was an asshole."

Edward blanches a little, and then an amused, crooked smile breaks across his face.

If I was babbling before, it's like my stunning revelation has opened the floodgates, and I ramble. "God, it's so _easy_ when I just say it like that! I've been so nervous about telling you. I was so ashamed because I thought it was my fault. For so long, I've thought it was my fault." He squeezes my fingers reassuringly. I remember the way I did the same for him in front of the fire at the cabin and smile at him. "You're right. This is much easier when I'm touching you."

He smiles back before he gives me a quizzical look. "Back up a little, Bella. Tell me from the beginning. You think it's _your_ fault he's an asshole?"

The circles he traces on my hand help me continue. "No, I suspect that part was all him. I blamed myself…because he strayed."

"He _cheated_?" Edward sounds utterly stunned that this could happen. Huh…it caught me by surprise too. "What the hell was _wrong _with this guy?"

My immediate response is to defend Tyler, which is ridiculous, but it's what I do. I find myself defending people, even though I know I shouldn't. Correction—I _did_ when I was with him. I catch myself and take a deep breath.

"Tyler and I met through friends. My roommate and her boyfriend were into climbing, and Ben went to school with Tyler. We met, hit it off, and that was it, for over two years. As far as I thought, we were happy."

Edward listens as I tell my story. In the grand scheme of things, my situation is such a small thing compared to what other people have to deal with in their lives. I suppose my life had been pretty cushy up until the point that my first real boyfriend broke my heart. Sure, my parents divorced, but I had the distance to realize it was a good thing for them. They were unhappy together and far better friends when they weren't maritally tied to one another anymore. I've been lucky in that I've never come face to face with real tragedy, so I suppose when something happened that rocked my world as I knew it, I started questioning everything and fell into the habit of not believing what was right in front of my face. Little did I realize, this made me ultra-skeptical of other people and over-sensitive to the point that I thought everyone was out to get me. Yeah, not my finest attributes.

And that, right there, is the benefit of hindsight.

I tell Edward all of it, sparing no details. I give him more than I did Rose, including the ugly parts I saw in myself. I tell him my fears that I was not only a terrible girlfriend but also a terrible friend, because it felt that everyone had a laugh at my expense. When I tell him I spent months wandering alone because, let's face it, I didn't trust anyone, he gently interrupts.

"Bella, you know you can't leave yourself behind. Trust me…I've tried. I changed who I was. I gave up what I loved doing most. I put my car in storage and bought a fucking Volvo because I thought it was a safer option." That part makes me giggle. He laughs a little himself. He squeezes my hands gently as he locks his eyes on mine. "I stopped living, and I think you did, too."

"I know that now," I say, my voice quiet. "I thought I was moving forward—instead, I was essentially running on the spot. I moved, but I didn't move _on_."

"What made you realize this?" he asks across his water glass.

I think of my conversation in the park. "A total stranger, funnily enough."

He grins and so do I, although I'm sure they're for different reasons. Just when I'm about to tell him about my impromptu meeting with Garrett, the waitress reappears and my stomach growls simultaneously.

"Can I bring you some dinner menus?"

Edward looks my way. "Do you want to stay here and eat? Or…we could go back to my place and order in?"

I smile shyly and nod. "Ordering in sounds great."

After Edward settles the check, he helps me with my coat. The heat of his proximity surrounds me, and when he wraps his arms around my waist, I can't help but settle back against his broad chest. His breath is warm and tickles my ear. I twist within his embrace to face him, wrap my arms around his waist, and press my cheek to his chest.

He takes a deep breath above me before speaking. "Thank you for apologizing. I know saying sorry isn't always easy, and I appreciate that you did it. So really—thank you." I feel his lips press on my hairline before he continues. "I really do want to see where this goes with you, and I'm really glad you wanted to talk things through."

I sigh. "Me, too."

"And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Bree and Kate. I know I mentioned them, but I guess I didn't mention the fact that I still see them regularly." He brushes a hair behind my ear. "They're an important part of my life, but now you are too. I'd like you to meet them."

"I'd love to," I mumble against his shirt. "They seem great, and Bree sounds like a total firecracker."

He shifts our embrace so that we're close but holding hands. "Come on."

We step out of the bar and onto the sidewalk. Looking in both directions, he stops walking and then turns to me. "Where did you park your truck?"

I grimace and kind of peer up at him. Biting my lip, I try to come up with a reason as to why I'd leave my truck at home. I needn't—he guesses.

"Let me guess," he says slowly, his eyes dancing with mirth. He's practically bursting with I-told-you-so-ness. "It's at home because it didn't start?"

"Shut up!" I laugh, slapping him gently because he deserved it and his chest just looks so nice beneath his button down. This, playfulness and teasing, sits well with us, and I feel instantly comfortable. "I've told you, don't hate the truck!"

Suddenly, his hands grasp my face, and his mouth drops to mine in a soft, pressing kiss. He lingers, and before he can pull away fully, I kiss him back. The gears that turn the world click back into place. I feel my body relax because this, right here, is where I'm meant to be.

Our lips shift together for a burning moment before he gently settles one last tender kiss against my lips. I smile as he takes my hand and leads me toward his car. I laugh when he hits the fob.

"So is the soccer mom car in retirement now?" I ask teasingly. I don't miss it—Edward in charge of this sleek machine is _so_ much sexier.

"Not permanently," he says casually as he opens the door. There's a hint of something else there. "It's surprisingly useful for things like trips away. We always took Emmett's or Garrett's car. It's nice to be able to get myself there." I feel his hand slide down my spine, shivers following its path, before he settles as low as he can while remaining decent in a public street. His voice drops, a husky tone coloring his words. "And it's handy if I need to stop along the way…you know, break up the drive."

_Holy fuck._

My mind immediately runs away to all the things you could do in the back of a roomy SUV to break up a long drive, and I'm pretty sure my eyes glaze over as I look at the intense stare he's giving me. When he pulls back to shut the door, I can't help but watch him walk around the car, and I wish this vehicle had a little more room and we were not on a city street. When he settles into his own seat and glances at me, I shift my gaze to look through the windshield. If my eyes were fingers, that boy would be stripped naked right now.

The car hums as we drive, and the air within the vehicle does the same. I keep my gaze fixed out the window so as not to do something drastic that would likely cause an accident. If Edward notices how badly I want him right now, he doesn't say anything.

I'm a little in awe as we turn into a parking garage that is heavily guarded with a metal gate and high-tech-looking security system. We zoom around, and before long, Edward pulls into a space beside a rather desolate-looking, lonely Volvo.

"Oh. Poor Volvo," I murmur in sympathy. It looks as lonely as my truck probably is—except the Volvo didn't do anything wrong. I feel the burn of Edward's gaze on me, and I twist to see him giving me a quizzical look. "What?" I respond. "I feel sorry for it."

He's laughing as he opens the door.

I tease him and his chivalry as he helps me from the low car, and he winks in return. "I'm nothing if not a gentleman, Bella."

"Sure, _Bulldozer,_" I can't help but respond cheekily.

The skin on my lower back tingles in response to his hand pressing there, and he leads me into an elevator. Edward swipes the same card he used to get us into the building across the panel in the elevator, and I almost do a double-take when he hits the button on the second row of the panel.

After a longer-than-expected ride, the doors slide open, revealing a large, light-colored lobby. There are only two doors, and Edward steers me to the one on the right, gold numbers standing out against the pale door. He twists a key in the lock and walks into a wide hallway, tossing his keys into a bowl on a long hallstand. I can't bring my feet to move onto the shiny, marble-tiled floor.

I can't see much from where I am, but what I can tell is that this is not your average, dinky apartment. The only thing separating Edward's apartment from the penthouse is the ceiling.

Turning around, he sets his gaze on me. "Would you like to come in?"

I shake myself out of my gawking. "Um ,yeah. Thanks."

"May I take your coat?" he asks smoothly, his easy smile still present on his face. He looks happy, and it makes me warm.

"Thanks."

He slips my jacket onto a hanger and hangs it in a closet by the hallstand. I hold in a chuckle at his careful treatment of my five-seasons-ago coat. At my place, I probably would have simply tossed it over a chair.

I follow him down the hall, each switch he flicks further illuminating the vast living space. I manage to hold in my gasp, but only barely. My eyes wander around the room, lingering on some of the things that stand out. Large TV, which I suppose is typical of most men I've met; large, comfortable couches and minimal soft coverings. A large, hardwood coffee table sits near the chairs and has a couple of magazines, books, and a rather high-tech looking remote. There are a few large paintings that burst in blues, reds, and greens against the pale walls, and as vibrant as they are, they say nothing for the blown-up, black and white photos that hang in a group on one wall.

Edward excuses himself, and I take the opportunity to take a closer look. There are nine pictures, set in a grid, and all of them depict hands, fingers, or parts thereof. The top right picture shows two hands clasped on what seems like a wooden railing, a man's and a woman's, their fingers intertwined. It feels remarkably intimate, like I've been caught interrupting a rather private moment. Another captures two hands pressed into what looks like a broad shoulder. The center image shows a man's hands, the fingers taped between palm and first knuckle. They're chalked, a little more scratched than I've normally seen them, and I find myself smiling. They're Edward's.

Not wanting to be caught snooping, I approach the large kitchen and settle myself on a stool at the counter. It flows directly from the living area and appears functional, although high-end. A built-in coffee machine is the only non-standard appliance I can see, apart from the under-counter wine fridge.

Despite Edward's apartment being obviously upscale, it doesn't feel pretentious. Whether it's because of the numerous personal touches, it still feels like a home. I smile to myself. It's rather like Edward—it's the small touches that make it comforting. For a moment, it's easy to forget about everything. Forget about work, forget about James, forget about the dodgy people in my past, forget about everything that holds us back. Just be here…with him.

I'm pondering just that as I stare out of the wall of glass that separates me from the light-sprinkled dark of the city, when I feel a presence in the room. I swivel on my stool, my gaze resting where Edward stands at the entrance to a hall that I assume leads to Edward's bedroom. Although given the size of this place, "sleeping quarters" is probably more apt. He looks relaxed—barefoot and in jeans and a t-shirt—the picture of the master of his domain. A crooked grin easily slides across his face.

"Drink?" he asks.

I nod in reply, smiling back at him. "Please."

"What would you like?"

_Oh, what would I like, indeed._ "Beer's fine if you have one."

He grabs a couple of bottles from the refrigerator and a bottle opener. Uncapping them, he rests the bottle opener down on the counter. I immediately pick it up.

"This is cute," I muse, lightly fingering the carabiner-shaped bottle opener. Noticing an inscription, I twist it to the side where in elegant script is written: "_Because it's there." _I grin, recognizing the quote from George Mallory, one of the first mountaineers to attempt Everest. It was his response when asked "Why do you want to climb Mt. Everest?"

"Is this your attitude to beer?" I ask, giggling.

He grins in return. "It was a twenty-first birthday gift from Garrett. He thought we should have the same attitude to drinking that Mallory had to Everest."

I laugh again. "Because it's there?"

"Why not?" He winks and holds his bottle out toward mine. "Cheers," he murmurs, looking me straight in the eye and drawing a blush to my cheeks. The air shifts, tension and anticipation hanging heavy between us. I gaze at him as his returned stare melts my insides and causes my heart to flutter. The rude growling of my stomach draws us back into the here and now, and I sit up straight on my stool.

I'm still buzzing when Edward turns to reach into the cupboard above the refrigerator. His gray shirt lifts, exposing the skin of his lower back and giving a peek of the top of what looks to be striped boxers. Two dimples taunt me from above the line of his jeans, and I feel my body heat.

"Hungry?" he asks, still reaching into the cupboard.

"Very." The word slips from my lips before I can stop myself, and there's far more on my mind other than food. He slides a binder across the counter to me, and I flip open the cover. There are several subject dividers in between the plastic pockets. Each pocket holds an individual menu. This is _beyond_ organized. "You've sorted these?" I ask.

He waves his bottle casually—like this is standard process for storing takeout menus. Mine are shoved in a kitchen drawer. "By type, then in order of my favorites."

I turn over the yellow tab labeled "Chinese" and suggest a few items that appeal from the first menu in the section. Like I said, _way_ too organized. Edward calls in our order, and we chat over our beers until the food arrives.

"How long have you lived here?"

"I bought this apartment about two years ago. I used to live on the ninth floor, but this one became available and I love the building."

I nod in response. "I like it. It's really comfortable."

"Thanks," he says, sipping from his beer. "It's close to everything I need. My mom and her sister like to stay here if they head into the theater or out for dinner."

Smiling to myself at the thought of Edward's mom enjoying a girls' night, and Edward hanging around awkwardly during said girls' night, I finish my beer just as the buzzer sounds. After the delivery guy arrives and I insist on paying, we sit down on the floor at the coffee table on Edward's huge, comfy floor cushions. We dig into the food—which is delicious—and I tell him about my day from hell yesterday. He says he understands how I may have mistaken Bree for his—apparently it's happened before. From there, I explain how a seemingly normal day turned to absolute shit.

"Fuck, Bella, I'm so sorry I ruined your day."

I rest my hand on his, because my overreaction is far from his fault—I'm not dwelling, and I've moved on. "I've told you, don't worry about it. I totally jumped to the wrong conclusion. Besides…" I spear a dumpling with one of my chopsticks "…it was that asshole at work that really capped it off."

A sound very much like a growl comes from Edward's direction. "I swear, if that bastard ever crosses my path—"

"You'll stab him with a scalpel?" I ask, indicating with my impaled dumpling.

"No. I'll remove his big toes with one. Without anesthetic."

"I don't think you'll need to bother," I tell him, twisting my chopstick and inspecting the wounded dumpling. "I'm pretty sure I broke his foot." Realizing again how badly I've fucked up, I drop the dumpling onto my plate and sink my face into my hands, disappointed in myself. "I'm surprised they haven't called me to tell me he's pressing charges."

From the kitchen, the tell-tale sound of my phone vibrating interrupts my next thought. I make my way to the kitchen, reach into my bag, and pull it out, thinking it must be Alice. I'm pretty sure my face falls when I see Tanya's name appear on the display.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bella. It's Tanya," she says, her voice sounding reluctant. Given my meltdown in the conference room, I guess she's probably worried about tipping me further over the edge.

"Oh, hi, Tanya." I return the greeting, simultaneously telling Edward who is calling.

"Bella," says my boss seriously, "about yesterday…"

"Yes…" I respond, letting the word hang.

"You'll probably have been expecting this, but I'm going to need to speak to you about the incident. Are you available to come in tomorrow?"

I try to keep my voice steady. It's time to face the music. "Yes, I can come in tomorrow."

"Oh, and Bella? Marcus Volturi would like to be involved in this conversation. I'm sure you can see why."

I shut my eyes to the mental image of the CEO of _The Times_ telling me in so many words why I'm such a disappointment to their organization, right before he has security throw me out into the street. "Of course, I understand."

"Is ten o'clock suitable?"

"That's fine," I reply, eager to end the conversation. "I'll see you then."

"I look forward to speaking to you then. Thanks, Bella."

"Okay. Bye."

After ending the call, I stand beside the counter, my body trembling. Edward unfolds his lengthy frame from his position on the floor and comes to stand in front of me. His face is the picture of concern. "That was work," I tell him, although I think I already did that. I feel light-headed. "I have to meet with the CEO." He wraps his arms around me, and I let my body fall against his. I just want to crawl back into our bubble and stay there.

"Hey," he murmurs, gently grasping my hands and taking them in his. He brushes my knuckles against his lips before dropping one and gently tipping my chin. "Look at me," he says softly, and I turn my face upward to look into his eyes. "They'd be hard pressed to take any action against you at all. What he did to you—the way he's always treated you—is _completely_ unacceptable. Not only that, it's against the law."

Edward is almost bristling with what looks like carefully guarded anger. His tone, matched with his even words, is seething. As rapidly as the cloud across his face descended, it lifts, and his eyes are lit with something…hope?

"Bella, I think I know someone that can help. They'll make sure you keep your job, and you'll have someone in your corner. Will you let me ask?"

"Yes," I reply, and my heart gives a flicker of a beat that lights the determination in me. "I love my job. I _want_ my job. If I can keep it, I'll do anything."

With purpose, he grabs his phone from the counter and leads me back to the couch. He keeps hold of my hand as he taps on his phone and then puts it to his ear.

"Hi, it's Edward. I need your help."

* * *

**A/N:** Like I said earlier, THANKS for not flouncing! I love you all...and we're pretty much back on track now ;)

**Some Recs:**

**Glycerine** by **Livie79 **- this owns me. Hot Actorward is hot.

**Evading Edward** by **VampiresHaveLaws** - yeah, I know it finished ages ago, but I'm slow. I loved it. Go read.

**Tequila Sunrise** by **2old4fanfic - **Cute banter, and a rather random proposal.

**Mud, Sweat and Beers** by **SparrowNotes24** - One of the funniest things I've read in ages. Seriously laugh-out-loud kind of stuff. What can I say? It appeals to my sense of humour.

**The Practicum** by TheFicChick- if I knew she wrote the phone book, I'd probably rec that too.

*****CONTEST ALERTS! - **Go see some majorly cute entries in the Ho Hey contest. Also, the Smells Like Metallic Roses 90s Twific contest. This one's anonymous, so I wouldn't be able to tell you if I entered. Go read the entries anyways ;)

.

**Recs by the Bulldozer Babes** – I haven't checked these out, but the girls assure me they're worth a look!

**Beneath This Sky** by **bedelia**

**Barefoot in Texas** by **planetblue**

**Corporate Affairs** by **chocoholic123**

**For The Summer** by camoozle


	18. Chapter 17: Bomb-proof Anchor

**A/N: **Love and thanks to my team: prereaders Louisemc86 TwiSNfan, and my betas RaindropSoup and mcc101180.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm responsible for the epic A/N at the end.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

**Bomb-proof anchor - **An anchor that is stronger than any possible load that could be placed on it. It is considered to have more strength than the climbing rope. When selecting or constructing an anchor, always make sure it is bomb-proof.

When the buzzer indicates that Edward's guest has arrived downstairs, I try and spread confidence throughout my body. Most of it comes from the man who has been sitting beside me for the last twenty minutes, promising he'll do everything in his power to help make sure that James never touches another woman with any hint of violence ever again.

"Thanks for coming by so late." I hear Edward's voice down the hall.

"It's no problem, really" comes the reply of a calm, yet authoritative-sounding, female. "You know this is my bread and butter." The voices come closer until Edward walks into the living room with a tall, strawberry blonde woman who looks very familiar.

"Bella," she greets me warmly and with a smile. She reaches toward me and grasps my hand firmly in both of hers, giving two gentle pats before releasing it. "I'm Kate. I've heard so much about you." She nods in Edward's direction. "He always comes up with an excuse to bring up your name." I'm more than a little surprised when Edward's cheeks redden.

"It's nice to meet you too, Kate." She looks far less intimidating up close. There is a softness in her eyes, which show just a hint of weariness. Given what she's been through the last few years, I'm not surprised. "Thank you so much for your help."

"Not a problem," she says lightly with a wave of her hand. "Besides, I get a real kick out of nailing violent bastards' balls to the wall."

Edward claps his hands together. "So, shall we sit? As much as I'd love to see you do that, Kate, all this talk about balls is making me uncomfortable."

Kate laughs again and takes a seat in an armchair beside the couch. Edward sits next to me on the couch and holds my hand.

"So," she begins, "I want to know about _every_ encounter you've had with this James character."

-~[YD]~-

By the time I've finished talking, Kate has taken several pages of notes. She has only interrupted to ask more questions or expand on a point I've raised, and her expression has remained impassive. I tell her about my observations of what he's said during team meetings, the things he's said to Tanya directly in front of our team, what I've overheard, and the way he asked if he could come on the trip to the Peninsula. I shakily relay the events of that final meeting; at which point, she interrupts.

"Did he give you that bruise?"

"What bruise?" I ask blankly.

"The one on your shoulder," she replies, pointing with her pen. I look down to the direction she's indicating.

Edward's cool fingers shift the neckline of my sweater a little to the side, and he curses under his breath. "_Motherfucker."_

Pushing the sweater farther aside, I see that I do, in fact, have a large, hand-shaped, purplish bruise on my shoulder. I hadn't realized he'd pushed me there so hard—I was more concerned with his hand pressing into my windpipe.

A flash distracts me, and I look up in time to see Kate lowering her phone. "This will come in handy," she explains. She sets down her pen and clasps her hands together. "Right, this is the way I see it. Despite the way you retaliated, you have nothing to worry about. They can't fire you." She speaks confidently, practically daring either Edward or me to disagree with her.

"But I assaulted someone," I can't help but say.

"No. You defended yourself. That bruise is testament to that. And there were witnesses."

I shake my head. "But what if they want me out? Because it'd be bad PR or something."

"Then we'll take them on," she responds, her tone firm.

"I really don't want to go down that path," I reply, reaching for Edward's hand. I immediately feel calmer when his fingers lace through mine. "I just want my job."

"And if that's what you want, then that's what we'll be pushing for." Kate stands, and Edward and I follow suit. "You're due to meet them at ten tomorrow morning?" When I nod, she continues. "Meet me out front. Don't go in that building until I get there." She reaches into her leather-bound folder and hands me a business card. "If you have any problems, they contact you, or they want to change the time, _call me."_

"Really, Kate, I can't thank you enough—"

"You make him happy," she says simply, grinning at me and then at Edward. He squeezes my hand. "That's enough for me."

I look up at Edward and give him a smile of my own, and I am rewarded with one in return.

We walk down the wide hallway, and Edward opens the door. "Where's Bree?" he asks, his hand still on the doorknob.

Kate's expression flickers with momentary incredulity. "Actually, Garrett's watching her."

"He is?" asks Edward, sounding surprised.

"Yeah." Kate sounds equally bemused. "He called me this afternoon and asked if he could come for dinner then insisted on reading Bree a story and putting her to bed."

"Wow," murmurs Edward. "That's unexpected. It's been, what, months?"

"It has. We had a pretty good talk, actually. He mentioned getting back in touch with his caseworker and restarting his therapy."

Edward appears to give this some thought, his hand running through his hair. "I wonder what prompted that."

Kate shrugs. "I'm not sure. You know how he can be. He said something about 'the beautiful' kicking his ass at the park, but he gets a bit muddled at times."

I bite back a smile and politely say goodbye to Kate, promising again to meet her in front of the building in the morning. Edward shuts the door before turning to wrap his arms around me.

"All good?" he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I nod against his chest. "All good. Thanks for calling Kate."

"Like she said, this is her thing. She specializes in workplace law—and she's buried more than one chauvinistic asshole in her time." He leads me back toward the living area. "She watched her older sister be bullied by that kind of guy at her work—she ended up quitting her job rather than face him. Kate was choosing her major at the time, and I think it was a no-brainer for her after that."

"Well, I'm glad to have her on my side."

He pulls back and grins. "Me too." When I stifle a yawn, he tucks a lock of hair gently behind my ear, his fingers lingering in a trail down my jaw. "It's late. I think we better get you home."

My first response is to protest like a child who's been told she's up past her bedtime, but I don't have the energy. Instead, I nod sleepily. "Yeah."

He strokes along my hairline before sweeping a finger down the side of my face, stopping under my jaw and tilting up my chin. He gives me a chaste kiss. "Come on. Let's get your things."

A little while later, after driving me home, Edward insists on walking me to my door. I promise to call him tomorrow after my meeting with the powers-that-be at _The Times_, and he gives me a enduring kiss goodnight before making sure I'm secure in my apartment. When I fall into bed, my eyes close as soon as my head touches the pillow.

-~[YD]~-

Black pencil skirt. Crisp, white shirt. Hair pulled back into a demure ponytail. Simple makeup. High heels—not stilettos. I just hope I don't look like a waitress.

When I cross the street from the parking lot, Kate is already waiting in front of the building. Everything about her appearance says _"don't fuck with me."_ Where I made a particular conscious thought not to wear the shoes that maim, she seems to go with the purpose of creating fear.

"Hi, Bella. How are you feeling?" she greets me professionally, extending her hand.

"I'm nervous, to be honest," I reply. "I mean, the CEO?"

"Ah." She waves her hand, dismissing my concern. "My guess is that they're worried about you going to a rival news production. The last thing they want is to be seen as a women-hating boys' club. It'd be a PR nightmare for them." She shifts her briefcase to her other hand. "Right. Let's go nail some balls to the wall."

My eyes glance in the direction of her red stilettos, and noticing me look, she gives me a grin and a wink. We push through the doors, go through security—although my pass appears to be still valid—and head straight up to the twenty-seventh floor.

While the butterflies in my stomach appear to be clanking around my insides like a rack full of trad gear*, Kate seems to be completely in control. I take a deep breath and try to channel some of the no-nonsense attitude she exudes. It works until the elevator doors slide open.

Being a lowly outdoors online writer, I have not had a reason to come up here to the floor that houses the CEO and other important people. Even when I came in for my interview, it wasn't to this floor.

Stepping into the large, echoey foyer, Kate's heels sound even more menacing. I pull my phone from my bag and check that it's on silent because it seems with the quiet, hollow expanse that is the executive lobby, its ringing would be likely to shatter every glass in the place.

Huge, glossy tiles cover the floors, and a large, raised marble counter acts as a receptionist's desk. Where the newsroom downstairs is busy and bustling, this space is like a tomb. Kate walks us right up to the desk, where a well-dressed woman sits, a headset positioned in place.

"May I help you?" the woman asks politely.

I glance nervously at Kate, who gives me a small smile in encouragement. I clear my throat. "We're here to meet Tanya Denali and Marcus Volturi. My name is Bella Swan, and this is Kate Tanner."

"One moment, please." She picks up the phone. "Mr. Volturi? Bella Swan and Kate Tanner…Yes, sir." She hangs up. "They'll be ready for you in just a moment. Please have a seat."

We sit on one of the couches, and my knee immediately begins bobbing up and down. Kate leans over to me, lowering her voice when she speaks. "Calm down. It'll be fine."

I take a deep breath and let it out through my nose. "Okay."

A moment later, the familiar click-clack cadence of heels on the polished floor comes closer. Tanya looks at me, a tight smile on her face, before her eyes fall to the tall woman by my side. She falters a little, and Kate seems to pick up on this. She extends her hand and introduces herself as my legal representation, and Tanya's smile becomes downright forced. The whole situation is extremely awkward, and I feel uncomfortable. It's a complete contradiction to when I started here half a year ago.

We follow Tanya into a large conference room, where she takes a seat beside another woman. At the head of the table are two men—one of them is the man I recognize as _The Seattle Times' _CEO and publisher, Marcus Volturi Jr. Piercing blue eyes sit below salt and pepper hair, and the presence of his wiry frame dominates the end of the table. He sits straight in his chair, and although appearing comfortable in his position, his eyes dart around the room; it's clear that he misses nothing. His appearance reminds me of a spider.

From reading his bio when I was doing my interview homework, I know he is the fifth-generation CEO of _The Times_ company and a respected journalist and businessman in his own right. Marcus Volturi Sr. insisted that his three sons start on the newsroom floor, so when their time came, they had an in-depth understanding of the business. Marcus Jr., took over the running of the business when Marcus Sr. retired. His younger brothers, Caius and Aro, both still work in the industry. Caius is the executive editor for a weekly sister publication in Tacoma, and Aro is a sought-after biographer working out of New York.

Marcus smiles at us, and although he looks predatory, his tone is eerily comforting. We sit, and I fold my hands in my lap so nobody can see them shaking.

"Thank you for joining us, Ms. Swan," he says evenly. I give a curt nod in reply, and he continues, nodding in Kate's direction yet maintaining eye contact with me. "I see you've brought legal representation. That's very discerning of you. How are you, Kate?"

"Well. Thanks, Marcus," my ally responds smoothly. "How's Liz?"

"She's well," he responds, beaming. "She's doing much better these days."

Kate removes a manila folder from her briefcase and sets it on the table in front of her. "Glad to hear it. Send her my best?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. Now, shall we cut to the chase?"

"There's nothing I'd like more," replies Marcus. His eyes shift momentarily to the man beside him, who gives a subtle nod. He introduces us to the man, but I miss his name because I'm concentrating on not throwing up on the conference table. Throughout the whole exchange, neither Tanya nor the woman sitting next to her have said a word.

Marcus shifts in his seat so he's directly facing me. He gives a smile. "Ms. Swan, you are aware that when all of our employees begin with us, they sign an agreement to abide by a code of conduct. You signed this document when you started with us, did you not?"

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is dry and the words don't come out. I clear my throat and try again. "Yes, Mr. Volturi."

"And you are aware that _The Seattle Times Company_ does not tolerate violence in any way, shape, or manner."

Unable to hold his gaze, I let my eyes drop to the table. "Yes, Mr. Volturi."

"I've spoken to Ms. Denali about the incident that occurred during the Outdoors Team's meeting the other day, and she has advised that this is not the first time you've had an altercation with James Eyre. Can you confirm this?"

I shift my gaze back to look at one of the most powerful men in Pacific Northwest journalism. My voice is barely above a whisper. "No, sir. It's not the first time. There was one other."

"Was anybody else present during this other incident?" asks the man beside Marcus.

"Not for most of it, but Tanya came in at the end." I'm not afraid to drop Tanya in it, but I figure, what the hell. She didn't exactly come to my defense when James had his hands around my throat.

Maybe-Dimitri leans over to say something in Marcus' ear, and the older man sets his gaze at me. The way he looks at me is almost sympathetic, but his tone is still officious. "Thank you, Ms. Swan. That is consistent with the footage we have on videotape. I just needed to hear it from you."

I finally find my voice. "Videotape?"

Marcus leans back in his seat, resting his elbows on the armrest and steepling his fingers. "Ms. Denali, I might let you explain this one."

Tanya looks nervous. Her hands rest on the table top, and she smooths out a piece of paper in front of her. The woman by her side gently urges her with "go on."

"We've recently had some security improvements here at _The Times._ Most were in place just before you joined us. They were deemed necessary." She pauses, shaking her head and twisting a gold band around her left ring finger. "I was very glad when you started here. Like I've said time and again, you were employed based on the merits of your writing. You also came with glowing references."

I'm not sure what to say nor what this has to do with a videotape, so I keep my mouth shut and nod my head.

Tanya closes her eyes for a moment before continuing. "Our team has always been male-dominated, and when I joined, the other guys were pretty good about it." She glances at Marcus, and I follow her gaze. He remains impassive, and I look back at Tanya. "Things were okay until James joined the team."

I see my boss' shoulders rise and fall; she appears to be steeling herself. "Things got particularly difficult when I was promoted to sub editor. James began spreading stories, causing others in the team to doubt my abilities. Two of the team members left in protest to my promotion, and when I asked James myself if he intended to join them, he said he wanted to stay." She laughs, but there are tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "He said he wanted to _break me_, and if that wouldn't happen, he wanted to watch my downfall."

None of this seems out of character for James, but I'm still unsure on how he could break Tanya. She seems so strong and in control all the time. I can't help but ask. "What did he have over you?"

This time it's the woman sitting next to Tanya that interrupts. "That's not necessary information for this conversation."

I think my eyebrows rise a little in surprise. A quick glance at Kate tells me to say no more.

Tanya continues. "The crux of it is that I began to fear for my safety. Most of his comments were done where others couldn't hear or in phone conversations. When you joined the team, I had an inkling he'd try and push me further, and an undercover observer was brought on to the floor, mostly in the capacity of security." She gives a small laugh that she attempts to hide with a cough. "It was the security officer who apprehended James after you…defended yourself."

I rack my brains to think about any extra security I've seen. I can't think of anybody at all. I wonder what else I haven't noticed—which reminds me of the videotape.

"May I see this tape?" I sit a little straighter in my chair in an attempt to put forward an illusion of confidence, although I don't quite have any right now. "I'd like to see it."

Marcus looks at Maybe-Demetri, who nods in reply, before he leans forward to hit a button on the intercom. "Heidi? Please send in the security officer from level seven. And could you please ensure they have the security footage from the conference room?"

While Marcus talks to the intercom, I lean into Kate and tilt my head so the others can't see. "Can they do that? Just film without permission?"

Kate speaks out of the corner of her mouth, her head also angled. "Yes. I've seen Marcus' employee agreements before. You will have signed a clause advising you agree to be filmed for the purpose of security. They can't use the film outside of the organization but may use anything they film in any disciplinary action. You know, people stealing stationery or, in James' case"—she winks—"assaulting coworkers."

I exhale. "Good thing I didn't steal any stationery."

"In any case," she says, her voice hushed, "this could work to your advantage."

I keep my own voice low. "This seems to be overkill for just some guy. Why didn't they fire him if they knew he was a problem? I mean, cameras, extra security—"

I'm interrupted by the voice through the intercom, telling us the security officer has arrived. As I'm sitting with my back to the door, I don't hear the door open, close, or any footsteps. The first idea I have that another person has entered the room is when Marcus speaks. This security guy is _good._

"Thank you for joining us," says Marcus. "Please allow Demetri to connect your laptop so we may all see the video feed."

"Of course, Mr. Volturi." The voice has me whipping my head around in shock.

"Gianna?"

The apparent non-receptionist gives me a warm smile. "Hi, Bella."

I'm pretty sure I'm giving an excellent impression of a fish out of water when I gape at the sight of who I thought was the receptionist, Gianna, standing in the doorway. I snap my jaw shut, and my eyes find Tanya's; she gives a half-smile and shrugs one shoulder in response.

Confirmed-Demetri sets up the laptop onto a projector, and footage of _that_ team meeting is beamed onto the screen for all to see. I'm conscious of Marcus watching me watching the screen.

Although there's no audio, it's pretty clear to see mouths moving. My stomach drops a little when I see the way I'm sitting—eyes down, slumped shoulders, doodling in my notebook. I hadn't been aware of it, but James is glaring at me the entire time. He speaks; my head raises. There's standing, hands placed on the conference table, and the clear body language of aggression on his part and retaliation on mine. I see me standing in his path. Then so, so quickly I'm against the wall. I'm pinned.

I cringe at the expression on his face, although from this angle, I can only see part of it. I've never, in all my life, seen such unmasked, unhinged, unrestrained anger. I find myself shrinking in my own seat as I watch. The image of me on the screen strikes back and runs from the room.

The rest of the footage is new information to me. Within a minute of me leaving the room, Gianna arrives. The guys have helped James to his feet, but as soon as he sees Gianna, he takes a full swing at her. She calmly steps back then lets his momentum help her continue his swing with a shove and a grasp of his wrist, which she then wrenches back and up into the small of his back. She forces a knee into his back, and he's on the ground again, his face pressed into the floor.

A grin escapes on my face before I quickly erase it. Gianna spots it and gives me a proud smirk of her own. I feel my cheeks heat. Who'd have known that Facebook Gianna was a total Kung Fu badass?

Back on the screen, James is escorted by Gianna and two rather hefty looking security guards. I then notice Tanya standing in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around herself, and her shoulders shaking. When I look at her in the here and now, I see her quickly wipe an escaped tear from her cheek.

The footage shows everybody leaving the room before it turns to static.

Kate opens the file in front of her. "Let's cut to the chase, Marcus. What is the status of Bella's employment here at _The Times_?"

Marcus gestures toward the blank screen with a bony hand. "As you can see, the footage speaks for itself. Ms. Swan acted in self-defense. Her position here has never been in question."

I close my eyes and let out a relieved sigh.

"Then I suppose that leaves us to ask—what about James' employment?" Kate gives Marcus a meaningful look, which appears to chip at his armor. "I'm not comfortable with my client being in a workplace where she'd have to be near anyone who has physically assaulted her." She places her elbows on the table and leans forward slightly, her posture predatory. "In fact, I'd like a copy of the videotape. It appears"—she pushes the open file to the center of the table, a photo of my bruised shoulder sitting on top—"we have enough information to bypass this discussion and go directly to the police. And that's even before we start looking at civil action."

I stare wide-eyed at Kate. She's in full-on lawyer mode. Gone is the caring, mild-mannered mom I saw at the park. Right now, she's a fucking barracuda.

Definitely-Demetri opens his mouth to speak, but a hand placed in the classic _stop_ position from Marcus makes him close it again. "James' employment with _The_ _Seattle Times_ has been terminated."

Across the table, Tanya finds her voice. She snorts. "Where's he being shipped off to now, Marcus? Back to Tacoma? Or is he going to try New York next?"

_Has Tanya lost her mind? This is the freaking CEO!_

Marcus seems unperturbed by her outburst. He gives a smirk of his own. "I can assure you, Ms. Denali, that Mr. Eyre has used up all his chances. He'll be lucky if he's given a position with the Littletown Tribune reporting on dog shows."

Perplexed as to where this conversation is going, I shake my head. Marcus notices my confusion and directs his attention to me. "Let me be frank, Ms. Swan. James Eyre is my nephew. His father—my brother—requested I give him a chance after he was, shall I say, _unsuitable_ for his previous position in Tacoma."

I read between the lines to understand that this whole event has not come as a shock to any of them—they expected him to fuck up, and I just happened to be in the way when he did it. Suddenly, I feel exhausted.

Absolutely-Demetri takes advantage of the moment and speaks up. "What kind of settlement would your client be looking for, Mrs. Tanner?"

My eyes shift to the others around the table before settling on Demetri. "I don't want a settlement. I just want my job back."

"One moment, please," Kate says suddenly, raising a finger. "I'd like to confer with my client. May we have a moment?"

"Of course. Take your time," Marcus says, standing up. Undeniably-Demetri, Tanya, and her accomplice follow suit. "I'll just walk Ms. Denali out. Hit that button when you're ready."

Kate nods and the others leave the room. She looks at me earnestly. "Are you sure about this, Bella? With everything that's gone on, you could do quite well out of this."

I let thoughts flicker through my head. She's asking if I want to sue. Sure, I could. Especially with video evidence, I could probably get a ton of money, buy a new truck, replace my entire climbing rack, and take a vacation. But what would be the cost? This is a relatively small industry—people talk, and everybody knows everybody. Although no one would directly say it, this could end up being a black mark against my name. I don't need the money, and like I've said time and time again…I love my job.

"I'm sure. I just want my job back and to know he won't be here anymore."

She grins and pats my hand. "It's your call. Are you ready?"

I nod. "I'm ready."

-~[YD]~-

Outside the building, Kate gives me a smile. "You did good in there, Bella."

My own smile breaks free, and I immediately feel better. "So did you."

Kate's face shows a hint of the joy I saw on Bree's in the park. "I had fun! I haven't butted heads with Marcus in _years_. I'd forgotten how much fun it could be." She giggles, just the same as her daughter.

The _fun_ that Kate had was pretty clear. She let Marcus sweat for a bit—and seemed to enjoy every moment—but in the end had him assure us that appropriate measures would be taken to ensure James Eyre would not be welcome in any of _The Times'_ offices, nor near me. Our team has been offered the services of Gianna on location if we feel we need them, but I can't see that happening. I've been given the rest of the week off, but I assured them I'd be happy with a lighter load for the rest of the week before I'm back into it properly next week.

I hold out my hand. "Thank you, Kate. Really. I mean, you don't even know me, but you really have gone out of your way to help…and at such short notice."

"No, Bella. Thank_ you_." She shocks me by pulling me into a hug. "I meant what I said. You make Edward happy. He's been so good to Bree and me, and it means a lot to see him happy."

She squeezes my upper arm, wipes a tear from her cheek, straightens her shoulder strap on her briefcase, and is off with a little wave. She gets five steps away before she turns. "We'd love to have you and Edward for dinner next week. Bree would love to meet you."

"I'll talk to him. We'll be in touch."

She gives a final wave and walks away.

I let my head fall back and look up into the gray sky above. A light mist is beginning to fall, and I let it cool my skin. My makeup is probably starting to run, but I couldn't give a shit. As soon as I get home, I'm washing it off and going to Emmett's gym.

"Bella?"

At the sound of my name called, I stop my sky-gazing and bring my eyes back to street level. Tanya is leaning against a wall, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

"Hi," I say cautiously.

She takes a drag and holds up her cigarette. "I quit. I really did, but this whole bullshit situation has driven me to take it up again." She stubs it out on the bricks behind her and stuffs it into the ash can. "I'm glad I caught you."

"Yeah, me too," I respond. I have so many questions for her, but judging by the look on her face, she wants to get out of here, and I figure I'm not going to get the time. I start with one. "So, Gianna, huh?"

She chuckles. "Yeah."

"She's badass."

"She is," Tanya replies with an emphatic nod. "Ex-Secret Service."

"No way!"

"Yeah."

My eyebrows rise. "Hmm. I thought she was spending all that time on Facebook. I guess she was watching security footage that whole time."

"Nah." Tanya smiles wryly, looking at the ground before glancing up at me. "Not all the time."

I can't help but giggle, but then my laughter dies. Tanya looks…really tired.

"Tanya," I begin cautiously, wrapping my arms around myself and tucking my hands under my arms to keep out the chill. "There's something that's been bothering me. Mr. Volturi said that James was his nephew, but I thought Mr. Volturi only had brothers. And James' last name is Eyre…"

"That was part of the conditions of James working here," replies Tanya simply. "It was supposed to be kept under wraps as to who he was, but the cat is pretty much out of the bag now. Marcus agreed to let him work here, but he refused to let him write under Volturi—I think he suspected things would turn sour." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pack of cigarettes before throwing it straight back in her bag and pulling out a pack of gum. She holds it out to me, but I shake my head. She unwraps a stick and pops it in her mouth.

"Wow," I interject quietly. "I had no idea."

Tanya chews as she continues. "James' dad is Caius Volturi. James was the result of a fling Caius had years ago, but although he never publicly recognized him, he didn't deny him, either." She pauses and seems to be choosing her words carefully. "He worked in the mailroom for Caius at Tacoma, but he had an _incident_ there, too." She air-quotes, but from her eye-roll, I don't suspect she thinks it was simply a minor incident. "Caius asked Marcus to let him come here. He's qualified, but they didn't want him to receive special treatment."

"Did he…" I clear my throat, a little uncomfortable about knowing more, but unable to deny the inquisitive journalist in me. "Did he do anything to you? I've always suspected…I mean, he was always…"

"He tried." Tanya lets the words fall out quickly, as if saying them faster will lessen the impact. "He asked me out several times. He found plenty of places to 'bump' into me." She shudders. "I said no, but he didn't get the message." Another shudder. "He's not my type, and I'm taken. He wouldn't let it go."

My face screws up a little. "He's a creep."

"He is, but he's a clever creep. He started trying to blackmail me, saying I'd acted inappropriately with _him_." She laughs dryly. "Ugh. What a mess."

I take a deep breath and let my words run out with it. "He's gone now. We can all move on."

Tanya sighs and twists her body to lean against the wall with one shoulder. "I mean what I've said, Bella. I've really enjoyed working with you."

Letting my feet shuffle, I look up into her clear blues. "Why do I get the feeling this is goodbye?"

She shakes her head. "Not goodbye, more like a 'see you later.' I'm taking some time off." She sighs wearily. "This whole James thing has worn me down. Marcus gave me a few months off. I think it might be a good thing, y'know?" Tanya nods, as if trying to convince the both of us. "Anyway, Paul's been at me to have a break. I mean, we haven't even gone on our honeymoon yet."

"How did I not know you were married?"

She gives a little girlish giggle. "I guess it never came up. We did it quietly a little while back. Just us, but we haven't had the time to have a party yet."

"Well, congratulations," I tell her with a genuine smile. "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks." Tanya grins. "Speak of the devil…" She waves over my shoulder. "Hey, you," she greets. I turn to see a tall, dark-haired model-type grinning straight at Tanya.

"Hey, babe." The model-type's husky voice greets her partner before she leans in for a gentle kiss.

Tanya wraps an arm around her love's waist and smiles at me, her strawberry blond head leaning against a delicate shoulder. "Bella, this is my wife, Paula. Hon, this is Bella."

Paula smiles warmly as she shakes my hand. "I've heard so much about you. Love your stories—best I've read." When Tanya slaps her playfully on the shoulder, she corrects herself. "Second best."

I laugh at the obviously easy companionship and pure joy that exudes from these two, and when they bid me farewell and walk away hand-in-hand, the meaning behind the continuous comments about working in a boys' club all make sense. I feel my phone vibrate and pull it out of my bag.

"Hi, Edward," I say, relieved at having him on the other end of the phone, despite not yet having said a word.

"Hi, Bella," he returns, and his voice alone gives me goose bumps. "How'd it go?"

I smile widely. "Fantastic. Kate was awesome."

"She's hardcore, isn't she?" He chuckles. "She reminds me of you."

"No way," I tell him. "She's in a league of her own."

"So what are you doing with the rest of your day?"

I begin walking toward the bus stop then remembering my last trip on public transport, stop where I am. "I'm going to catch a cab home and then sleep for the afternoon. And later…" my teeth sink into my lip "…I thought I might go to the gym."

"Oh, really?" he says casually. "So was I."

I play along. "Is that a fact?"

"It is," he says calmly. "And then I was going to ask this pretty girl if she wanted to come to my place for dinner afterward."

My body warms, despite the chill in the air. "You often pick up girls at the gym?" I can't help but chuckle. "Or do you just drop them?"

"Amusing. I have had some success there."

Now giggling, I twist the end of my ponytail around my finger. "I see."

"Oh, and Bella?"

"Yes?"

"I have a late start tomorrow."

My heart leaps, stutters, and then pounds double-time. "I don't have a start at all."

He chuckles huskily, and it goes right through me. "That's fortuitous."

"That's a big word."

His teasing tone is still in full force. "What can I say? You're rubbing off on me."

I shudder. This conversation is becoming too much for me to handle in a public street. "So, I'll see you at the gym?"

"You will. I'm looking forward to it."

My voice comes out as a squeak. "You are?"

"Immensely."

Trying to hold in the blush that simmers below my skin is becoming difficult. I need to get off the damn phone. "I'll see you tonight."

"Bye, Bella."

Hanging up before he can say any more, I hail the first cab home. I fight sleep the whole way, knowing that in just a few hours, I'll be back in my element. And the Bulldozer will be there…possibly shirtless.

And tonight, he's all mine.

.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! Big thanks to those of you have jumped on recently, and reviewed every chapter! I love it! Seriously!

Hey, here's some fun news: This week, YD has been nominated for Fic of the Week at www. tehlemonadestand. net …I'm a little stunned to see my story listed beside some of the best stories I've read. Go vote for your favourites!

In other equally fun news, Yosemite Decimal was featured on Rob Attack in their post _Down Under With Rob ~ Part 2 ~ The Authors of Oz._ Huge hugs and smoochy kisses to Wiltshire Glo for her sweet review.

Go check out the **Smells Like Metallic Roses 90s Twific contest. **Read the entries and drop a note…the authors appreciate it. So I've heard. Voting starts Feb 1st 2013.

**Some Definitions:**

Trad rack/climbing rack: A collection of equipment used in traditional climbing. Usually consists of hexes, cams, slings, and other protective devices.

**Some Recs:**

I'm going to cheat and just tell you to go read the other nominees for Fic of the Week at TLS. If you're reading this in the future when YD is complete, and you can't see them—Hi! Do ya'll have flying cars now? Leave me a note and let me know, 'kay?

**Boycotting Valentine's Day **by** jennlynnfs **– With V-day coming up,

**Chalk **by** Honeybeemeadows – **Another climbing-type one! Plus, HBM is mega-sweet.

**Finding the Light **by** Lilblackcloud – **First story posted by this author. Go share some love.

**God's Gift **by** ThatEnglishWriter –** CEOward. Who doesn't love one of those?

**Going Under **by** sparklnfade** – This was one of the first fics I signed up to get alerts for. Surferward…mmm

**Hold Me Down **by **Periwrites - **Go read, review, and push her reviews over 1000.

**Just Breathe** by** Anhanninen **-I'll admit I haven't read it, but love her writing. F words is a fave of mine.

**Leaping **by **Counselor – **Read it, because it's Counselor

**Overpass **by** Purelyamuse – **Purelyamuse wrote one of my fave fics ever…This one dives back to the 90s. And the 90s were awesome.

**Ride to You **by** Greye Granger **– There's great vibes out there about this one right now.

**Say Goodbye **by **MariahajilE – **I just read the first chapter, and…damn.

**Something About Us **by** Lastoftheenglishroses – **Another where the first chapter hooks you.

**Tequila Sunrise **by** 2old4fanfic** – Two words. Elevator sex.

**The Learned Game **by** Eglantine16** – I started skimming this, then found myself hitting the 'next' button.

**The Lost Son **by** InkJess** – Interesting premise, worth checking out.

**The Man in the Long Black Coat **by** CrackedFic – **It's rare in this fandom that you can get a male's perspective. Here's your chance.

**The Practicum **by** TheFicChick – **Read it, because…well, duh. She's brilliant.

**The Traveler **by** MidnightLove87 – **The first chapter of this has secured its place in my TBR list. High on it, in fact.

**This is Not My Life **by** IsaKassees** – This story flipped me upside down and inside out. Wow, what a ride.

**Yosemite Decimal **by** MagTwi78 – **Skip this one. It's silly, and the author's crazy.

* * *

**Some other info:**

I'm beginning to post YD on T**he Writer's Coffee Shop**. Y'know, in case anything happens here. It never hurts to be prepared. Username is MagTwi78

Come and chat to me on **twitter**. I do love to chat. magtwi78

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	19. Chapter 18: Crux

**A/N: **Big thanks to my team, Louise, Lisa, Mel, and Raina.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I have RSI from typing most of this chapter on an iPad.

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**Chapter 18**

**Crux** – The most difficult part of a climb.

Despite the bite of the frigid air, my muscles feel warm from the brisk walk, and my nose tingles a little from being exposed to the elements. The bell dings as I push through the door into RockFace, and I'm hit by a wave of heat, chattering voices, and the pungent aroma of warm rubber and sweat. The comforting familiarity of it brings a smile to my face.

"Hey, Laurent," I greet the dreadlocked guy behind the counter.

"Bella. Good to see you." He reaches forward and offers me a fist bump, which I return.

"Bouldering?" he asks, punching my card.

I tilt my head toward the harness I have hanging over one shoulder and try to keep the maniacal, excited giggle from my voice. "Climbing."

"Niiice," he says, drawing the word out and nodding approvingly. "Have fun!"

Stuffing my card back into my wallet, I throw my smile and my response over my shoulder. "I intend to."

The turnstile squeaks as I push my way through, and I pause for a moment to crane my neck and check out the gym. It feels like I haven't been here in so long, but in truth, it's been less than a week. I suppose the bigger factor is that I'm buzzing with a confidence I haven't felt in months. So while Bella was here last week, me, as I am now, hasn't been here in a long time.

My good mood has turned me into the old guy from the _Karate Kid_.

I duck into the changing room and stuff my bag and street shoes into one of the lockers. Peeling off my layers so I'm down to my leggings, a tank, and my comfy gray hoodie, I sit down on the bench that stretches along the middle of the space. The worn suede pulls easily when I loosen the laces on my climbing shoes as far as they'll go before pushing my feet into them and tucking the laces in so I don't trip—my shoes are too tight to wear laced when I'm not climbing. Once I have my chalk bag and harness, I snatch up my iPod, slam the locker door shut with a bang, secure it with a combination lock, and make my way back out into the gym.

The main part of the gym is busy with what seems to be a few after-school groups. I know this is a new thing for Emmett, but he's found that there's been quite a bit of interest so far. Particularly with the cool weather and the upcoming holiday season, the main floor is jumping. I stop for a moment but can't see anybody I know, so I wander up to the mezzanine floor and the shorter routes. I figure I can play for a bit in the bouldering cave until Edward arrives.

The cave is empty, and the noise from the main floor can no longer be heard. I pop my iPod in the dock and let my music fill the space, plopping myself down on the crash mats to tighten my laces, stretch my legs, and generally check out the place.

With more energy than I should have since I'm going on few nights of disrupted sleep, I scramble to my feet and place my hands on the holds to the right of the door to the cave. Letting the familiar wave of calm that comes with the first move of a climb wash over me, I position my feet and begin to move.

The music reverberating through the cave hums through my body, and I allow my muscles stretch and coil as I make my own route using whatever holds strike me at the time. It's just a warm up, so I don't push too hard.

I've tapped out at the end and am on my way back when I feel a presence in the room. It could be anybody, but the buzz that makes the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end tells me otherwise. I consider turning my head to throw a sassy comment when an arm grasps around my waist, another reaches across my chest to grab my shoulder, and I'm yanked abruptly from the wall. I fall backward and let out a shriek as I land horizontally against a strong chest. A low chuckle tickles my ear.

"You scared the hell out of me!" I exclaim, rolling away on the crash mat and onto my stomach. I try and catch my breath while the Bulldozer shakes full-out with laughter.

"You should see your face!" he cries, holding his stomach and trying to speak through his laughter.

I scowl at him, my cheek pressed into the crash mat. "That wasn't funny."

He tries to keep a straight face, which lasts all of about four seconds, and he cracks up again. "You're right. It was fucking hilarious."

Moving to straddle his thighs, I push him in the chest and huff a breath. "Seriously. You scared me."

Edward's eyes widen. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't think." He sits up and cradles my face in his hands. His thumbs trace my cheeks as he speaks. "Are you okay? Shit, being grabbed probably freaks you out. I didn't mean to scare you, I swear. Well, I did, but not really scare you. I just—"

The way he's looking at me stops my heart. "Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Stop talking and kiss me hello."

The moderately panicked look fades, and a crooked grin appears. He slides his hands down and around my waist, and I put mine around his neck. "Of course," he responds, his face drawing nearer. "Hello."

When his lips touch mine gently at first, I let my eyes drift shut and enjoy the feeling of him so close to me, all too aware that because of my stupidity, I may not have gotten this chance again. He eases the pressure before increasing it again, and I let my tongue peek out to taste his lips. He parts them, and I allow myself to become lost. I pull him so that our chests are touching and feel him grow beneath me. My muscles demand that I move, and I'm about to—until a loud voice interrupts us.

"Hey! No fucking in the cave during business hours! There are children present!"

I sheepishly, and reluctantly, pull my lips away, feel the heat in my body rush to my cheeks, and press my face into Edward's shoulder.

"Fuck off, Emmett," Edward calls, causing his throat to vibrate and me to want to bury my face into where his Adam's apple moves.

"Stop kissing your girlfriend and go grab a drill. I need you to finish that route."

My body stiffens, and Edward strokes my back. "I'll kiss my girlfriend whenever I like, and I'll finish that route when I'm ready. Now fuck off!"

As I hear Emmett's footsteps fade with his muttering, I sit back, giving myself some distance and the ability to look into Edward's eyes. He shifts his gaze back to me for a beat before his eyebrows rise.

"I called you my girlfriend."

I nod slowly, letting a breath out because… "Yeah, I caught that."

He ducks his head a little but maintains eye contact. "Hmm. I probably should have talked to you about that first."

I'm still nodding. "Yeah, probably."

Edward's expression becomes almost shy, and for a fleeting instant, he looks like a teenage boy. I bite back the urge to laugh—he's just too adorable. My heartbeat flies.

"Do you mind?" he asks.

Nodding shifts to shaking. "No." I clear my throat and lick my bottom lip. I can feel my cheeks begin to warm. "I think I like it, actually."

His arms wrap around me a little tighter. "Yeah?"

My lips turn up into a smile before they connect with his. "Yeah."

This time, our kiss is unhurried. He keeps his hands on my waist, and mine remain looped around his neck as we keep the kiss suitable for business hours. With one final linger against his lips, my eyes slowly open to see him giving me the crooked grin I love so much. I can't help but trace a finger at the edge of it, wondering if it's always been an Edward thing, and he shifts to kiss my finger. I giggle and pull my hand away.

"So," I ask, wiggling a little in my position. He groans and shakes his head minutely at me. I grin, feeling for myself why he might want me to keep still. "Climbing?"

"You go ahead. I'll catch up."

I give him one more kiss before hopping to my feet. "I need to finish warming up."

He leans back, his hands pressing into the crash mat, and crosses his feet at his ankles. "Go right ahead. I'll just watch."

Sticking out a hand to help him up, I shake my head. "Nuh-uh-uh. You're joining me." He takes my hand, and I give it a pull. Although it's only tokenistic, there's no way I could pull him to his feet. "Up you get."

He groans and stands up, sticking his hand in his pocket and discreetly adjusting himself. I feel my cheeks heat and turn for the wall, hoping he didn't catch me checking him out.

His voice is low and comes over my shoulder. "See something you like?"

_Shit_. _Busted._ "Shut up and warm up, Cullen."

"As you wish," he comments. When I turn my head, I catch a smirk on his face.

I resume my meandering along the wall, and Edward does the same. It says a great deal for my focus that I'm able to not hit the floor, given that he's on the other side of the cave. If I could climb effectively facing into the cave instead of staring at the wall, I'd be a happy girl. His deep voice to my left stops me.

"Excuse me, Miss. May I pass?" A quick look across the top of my arm shows Edward's smirking face looking back at me. He's headed around the cave in a clockwise direction. Apparently I'm blocking his path. I think he's blocking mine.

I narrow my eyes at him and jerk my head. "Sure. Off you go."

He purses his lips. "Wanna hop down so I can pass?"

Holding in the snort that threatens to escape, I shake my head instead. "Wanna hop down so I can pass?"

Edward re-grips, but I take it to mean he's getting down. I make a move closer. He holds firm.

"I asked first." His tone is that of a classic single child.

"So? I asked second." Mine is equally petulant. He's not the only one used to getting their own way.

"Please, Bella. Could you hop down from the wall so I may pass?" He smirks triumphantly. "See? I even said please."

I reach behind me, tucking my hand into my chalk bag and letting my fingers tease the ball of chalk. Flicking off the excess, I place my hand back on the wall. "I was here first."

"Hmmm." Edward rests his chin onto his very solid shoulder. His green eyes twinkle at me cheekily. "I could always make you move."

This time, the snort doesn't stay in. "Ha! You could try!"

Though his lips are hidden, the glower in his eyes gives away his intention. "Oh, you shouldn't have said that."

Lightning-fast, I see his feet shift in my periphery, both of his hands gripping the same hold beside me. He reaches and moves, and before I know it, his feet are on holds below mine on either side of my body. I'm caged between him, the wall, and two very thin layers of clothing. He pulls his grip tighter, pressing all of his body into me. Pieces of plastic jut into my chest, ribs, and the insides of my thighs—but I don't even care. His breath is hot in my ear when he speaks.

"Move now, Bella."

I try to wiggle, but he pushes harder against me. Through his loose-fitting cargo pants, I can feel him grow against my ass.

"God, Bella," he murmurs. He growls low in his throat, causing vibrations to rumble through my back and my ribs to hum. "The things I want to do to you."

Whether it's a whimper or a moan I'm not sure, but a desperate sound escapes my throat. I see his left hand tense and his right hand come free, and he reaches around to splay a large, chalky hand across my stomach. From my position between the wall and his body, I can't go anywhere. As if I'd want to.

"Do you want me to?" he murmurs in my ear. His little finger teases the band of my leggings, and he slips it just beneath the fabric. My stomach tenses. "Do you want me to…do things to you?"

My breath catches, taking my voice from me. I nod. His lips touch my neck. "Good," he whispers. "Because I'm going to."

I draw breath into my lungs in a noisy gasp. "Now?"

He chuckles. "No. Later."

With the promise of later ringing in my ears and the feeling of his body flush against mine like a cloak, he drags himself around me and moves back to the wall. Goose bumps break loose at the sudden cooler air washing over my skin. With shaking knees and deep breaths, I let my feet hit the floor. Edward has resumed moving around the cave.

He chuckles, and the sound is dark and promising. "Told you I could make you move."

-~[YD]~-

The tension between us continues to build all night. I hope it might dissipate a little when Alice and Jasper arrived, but it doesn't. If anything, the buzz that hums between us seems amplified the more we try to keep a lid on it.

I hear Alice before I see her. I'm choosing a route down on the ground floor—Edward daring me to tackle something harder and me telling him I intended to—when I hear a squeak and am hit from behind by thin arms. It's enough to make both my attacker and me tumble to the floor.

"I'm glad you're back!" she says, rolling off me and letting me breathe. I give her a sheepish grin in return and accept Jasper's help getting up from the floor.

"All good?" Jasper asks in his easy, knowing way. He releases my hand so I can brush dust and chalk from my knees.

I nod in reply. "All good."

He grins right before his sister appears and ruffles his hair. I can't help but laugh at the easy-going camaraderie between the six of us and relish in the comfort of the company of people I care about—and who care about me.

Gradually, the gym empties, and Emmett joins us after locking the doors and putting up the "closed" sign. He hurries Edward off to finish rebolting the route he'd apparently started setting a few days ago, which doesn't take him long at all.

At end the evening, Emmett challenges me to a speed-climbing rematch but withdraws the offer after seeing my new boyfriend's unimpressed expression.

"Right," booms Emmett. "In that case, I wanna go home. Last climb. Who's up?"

"Me," comes an unexpected voice. Four sets of eyes dart to Edward. "If that's okay."

Emmett's jaw drops before he closes it again. Rose holds onto her husband's arm, and I can see her fingers tighten ever so slightly. Alice's eyes widen, and I see them begin to shine in the harsh fluorescent light of the gym.

"You sure, dude?" asks Jasper slowly, as if he's speaking to a timid animal.

Edward nods. "Yeah." The nodding becomes firmer. "Yeah, I am. Bella—belay for me?"

The eyes all shift to me, but I only see Edward's. I know what this is. He's asking me for more than just to watch the rope for him. He's asking to trust me—and me him. He trusts me not to drop him. He trusts me to keep him safe.

I aim to keep my voice as steady as I can when I reply. "Sure."

He nods and begins clipping in. I guess the others sense that this would be better without the group of them hanging around at the bottom of the climb, and they drift over to the lounging area, draping themselves across the couches and sipping from water bottles.

I shake my hand to try and expel the trembles that threaten to rattle the belay device and set my gaze on Edward. His eyes are closed, but they open when I look at him.

"Belay on?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.

"Belay on." I confirm it with a slight nod of my head. _We can do this_. "Climb when ready."

The word escapes his lips at barely above a whisper. "Climbing."

Then he is. His hands reach for handholds, his feet step up, and he leaves the safety of the ground. Now it's just him, the wall, the rope, and me.

As he begins, I see his knuckles turning white. He's gripping too tight, and he's going to wear himself out. As if he senses this, he releases one hand to stretch and flex his fingers before replacing it and doing the other. I see his shoulders rise and fall, and he's off again.

His muscles appear to grow as he grips then, like water flushing through a funnel, turn slender as he releases. The route is not particularly complex, but this climb is not about physical strength and flexibility. This is about Edward getting his groove back.

The importance of my task is paramount in my mind as I work the rope. I make sure I give Edward enough slack to move, but keep it taut enough so he knows he's safe.

As if he can read my thoughts, three quarters of the way up he pauses, considering his next move. The nerves and the fact that he hasn't extended himself like this in quite some time is causing his legs to waver. I can see what's got him rattled—the next move is a big one. He leans back from the wall, extending his arms but keeping hold of the wall as he peers down at me.

"Got me?" he asks.

"Got you." I tell him firmly. And I mean it.

I use the coiling of his muscles as a signal to work the rope, and I'm already on it before he pushes off. Once he's fully extended, it's an easy move and he lands it easily—but I can tell he had to shake a lot of thoughts from his head to do it.

After four more moves, he triumphantly taps out and lets himself hang on the rope. From my position, I can see that his eyes are closed and his chest is heaving. He tells me to let him down, and I ease the lock on the belay device.

As he lands in a seated position on the ground, the air rushing in and out of his lungs in heavy pants, I notice that the gym is otherwise eerily quiet. Only the sound of metal clinking as the belay device shifts against the carabiner and the hum of the ventilation system pierces the still. I give Edward a quiet moment as I unclip from the anchor and look around the gym to see that the place is empty. Given that the bags stashed in the lounge area are missing, it would appear the others have left.

I hear shuffling behind me, and I wonder what to expect. The climb itself wasn't particularly taxing, and Edward is fit, but given the mental hurdle, he might be exhausted. He might be drained. He might be emotional. He might be…

_Holy shit._

He's standing at this point. His cheeks glow rosy, and I can see the rise and fall of his chest under the dark triangle below the neck of his t-shirt. A sheen of sweat covers his neck, his chest, and his arms, and his normally riotous hair sits flat and falling in his face. But it's his eyes that cause every muscle in my body to tighten and sing.

Then he's all around me. Hands on my face, in my hair, on the back of my neck, then gripping my sides. His forehead touches mine, and that last blaze in his eyes turns me into a puddle of _oh-God-take-me-now_ before his lips take from mine, and he gives to me whatever he found at the top of that climb.

With our lips pressed firmly together yet never still, he walks me backward, and my feet act for the sole purpose of stopping me from hitting the floor. I have no idea where he's taking me, but I'll follow him anywhere. His body, which I just admired from the distance of a length of rope, is now pressed hard against me in full Technicolor, and his mouth…his mouth…

The back of my knees hit something soft, and I'm swallowed by the couch. I don't even think about how I got here as Edward shifts, pushing my chin up with his lips and smattering kisses across my throat. His hands assail my ribs, diving beneath my tank top, sweeping upward and leaving my stomach bare. More kisses on my stomach before he rids me of my top altogether, leaving me in my sports bra, leggings, and climbing shoes.

Feeling unmatched, I grasp at his shirt and it, too, is gone in one movement. He stares down at me with shadowed eyes, keeping his intense gaze on my face as he lowers his mouth to take one fabric-covered nipple between his lips. His dextrous fingers knead my hips as my head falls back, and I stare at the tin-roofed, fluorescent-dotted expanse that is the gym.

And then it hits me.

"Edward…"

With a murmur, he shifts to the other nipple and I gasp.

"Edward…we can't do this here."

He groans and presses his face into my bare stomach. His scruff tickles, and I squirm, a giggle escaping my lips, but he doesn't stop kissing me. "Mmm…why not?"

"Because…" What was I saying? "Because…"

"Because Emmett said no fucking in the cave during business hours?"

I moan a little at the visual that leaps into my head, teamed with the feeling of his hot breath on my skin. "Yes."

"We're not in the cave…" he shifts the fabric of my sports bra, exposing my nipple to the air "…and it's no longer business hours."

Reaching behind me to grasp the couch in an attempt to stop myself from tearing his hair out, I wrap my tongue around my feeble protest. Plus, I've just realized the couch below me is gross. The protest becomes real, and I sit up. "I didn't say not ever. I said not here."

"You're right." His darkened gaze rests on me for a second, and he grins at me cheekily, giving a half-shrug. "Sorry, adrenaline rush." He re-covers me and then reaches for my top. I take it from him when he tries wrenching it over my head. When his head pops through his own shirt, he straightens it, and a smirk spreads across his face. "Plus, I promised you dinner. Let me feed you."

I nod then pull my own top over my head. "I need to get my stuff. I'll be right back."

"I'll go lock up."

We break apart, and Edward heads up to the mezzanine floor, presumably to check the cave. I take the opportunity to make a dash for the locker room.

Twisting the combination and pulling my stuff from the locker, I pull my hoodie over my head and change into my Chucks. For a moment, I consider hopping into the shower, but I don't think I have time. I don't want to keep Edward waiting.

Settling for yanking a pair of sweats over my leggings and tucking my coat around me, I gather my belongings and start toward the door. Unfortunately, I pass a mirror on the way, blanching at the dishevelled bouffant that my ponytail has become. A battle with my hairbrush removes some of the snarls, so I give up and twist it into a messy bun on top of my head. Less than satisfied but figuring it'll do, I leave the locker room, flipping the light off as I go.

Edward is waiting for me by the exit, and suddenly shy, I move at a pace slower than my normal walk. He watches me the whole time, and when I reach him, he smiles.

He holds out his arm for me. "Ready?"

"Ready," I confirm, looping my hand through the crook of his elbow. He flips on the alarm, and we push out into the darkness.

-~[YD]~-

When we arrive at Edward's apartment, I'm a little more comfortable with the surroundings than I was the last time. Of course, this time I know what to expect.

It's what I'm expecting, however, that is giving me butterflies.

"Drink?" he asks, leading me into the kitchen.

"Actually," I ask, a little timidly, "would you mind if I had a shower? I'm a little..."

"Of course," Edward says quickly. He takes my hand, and we walk down the hall. Flicking on the light inside the bathroom, he releases my hand and remains in the doorway, proceeding to rake his fingers through his hair. He nods toward the cabinet. "There are towels in there. If you need anything..."

"Thanks."

Edward takes a deep breath, as if he is about to say something, before turning and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. I set my backpack down on the closed toilet lid and dig out the travel-sized shampoo and body wash I usually use when I shower at the gym.

After scrubbing the gym's grime and sweat from my skin, I give my hair a quick towel dry and dress in a pair of sweats and t-shirt before making my way, barefoot, back to the kitchen. When I get there, Edward is standing at the counter, bent over chopping vegetables.

"I thought we'd just have a stir-fry. Is that okay with you?"

I slide onto a stool at the island. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Beer?" he asks, walking toward the fridge. I nod in reply, and he pulls two out, popping the tops and handing one to me. Cheersing and, as always, intently focusing his gaze on my eyes, he takes a sip.

It's almost as if we both know...or suspect that this, what we have here, is ready for more. As I feel my own gaze intensify, I know I'm ready. Through the stripping down of my defenses, sharing the part of me I'd long hidden in shame and embarrassment has left me standing before him without any more secrets. No secrets, except for the ones we're yet to discover through our own volition—such as knowing what he feels like when our bodies are connected in the most primal of ways...and I'm ready for that, too.

He moves around his kitchen easily and, after serving up our dinner, leads me to the dining table. He seats us at his table, him at the head and me beside him, and tips his bottle to me again. I compliment him on how appealing the meal looks, and the shadow of one, final thing I need to say creeps up my spine, along my shoulder, and whispers in my ear. I take Edward's fork-free hand to steel myself.

"Remember how I said I met a stranger? The one that gave me the ass kicking I needed?"

He holds his fork still, shifting in his seat to face me. "Yes..."

I go for honesty. Plain, word-blurting honesty. "It was Garrett."

The fork drops. "Garrett?"

I nod in confirmation. "Garrett."

Near his hand, his phone rings. He glances at the screen before shifting his gaze to me. "Garrett."

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! The next chapter might be a little delayed. I had a small…incident with my computer. My new one is due to arrive early next week, so I'll get that next chapter to you ASAP, I promise!

Hey, guess what? **Yosemite Decimal** was named as one of last week's Fics of the Week at The Lemonade Stand! **Thank you SO MUCH **to everyone who voted!

News I'm VERY excited about - I'm hosting the **Happily Ever After Twifiction Contest! **If you've been thinking about writing for a while, I would LOVEit if you entered! Do an FFnet author search for **TwiHEAcontest** for more information

I've also entered the Smells Like Metallic Roses 90s Twific Contest. Check out the entries and vote for your two favorites!

**Some Recs:**

**The Give Away Girl** by **MrsSpaceCowboy** – it's set in the 90s and takes me back. It's worth a re-read if you've already read it.

**The Other Way** by **HoneybeeMeadows**. I've developed somewhat of a girlcrush on HBM. When I grow up, I want to write words as beautiful as hers. Plus, she shares my love for Rockwards ;)


	20. Chapter 19: Clean

**A/N:** Yosemite Decimal wouldn't come to you without the invaluable help and support of RaindropSoup, mcc101180, TwiSNfan and Louisemc86.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own the plot to this story.

This chapter is rated M for grown-up stuff.

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**Chapter 19**

**Clean**

1. To clean a route is to remove climbing equipment from it. Cleaning is done by the second climber coming up the route;

2. Climbing a route without falling or hanging on the rope; or

3. To ascend an aid route without using equipment that must be hammered into the rock, which scars and damages the rock surface.

.

We both just sit there and watch it. Neither of us moves, but our eyes never leave the ringing phone.

The device vibrates on the table, slowly rotating, the sound echoing throughout the room. Garrett's name is clear on the display, but Edward remains still.

"Are you going to get that?" I ask, shifting my gaze to his face.

"No." Edward lifts his hand and lets it hover. Then he rests it back on the table.

I try to keep my face under control. "No?"

Raising his hand again, he brushes his fingers across the phone, as gentle as a caress. The buzzing stops. "No." He taps his fingers on the table beside the now-still phone then rests his palm flat on wooden surface.

I'm torn between suggesting he call Garrett back and staying out of it entirely because it's none of my business. Tilting my head a little to try to see his face better, I watch his eyes close. Allowing my hand to squeeze his as a reminder that I'm still here, I wait. When he opens his eyes again, he brings his gaze to mine, and he smiles.

"I'm here with you. Tomorrow can wait, but tonight…I just want to be here with you." Wordlessly, I nod, but my heart thunders in my chest. His lips break into a slightly cheeky grin. "Besides, my mother taught me that it was poor manners to answer the telephone during a meal."

I can't help but smile a little myself. This seems to be consistent with the style of the woman I met at the restaurant. Edward picks up his fork again, and his tone is now a little serious. "You met him?"

I give a barely-there nod. "Yes. At the park. He was sitting near the playground. The one where I saw you."

Edward's lips press together, and he makes a sound through them. He speaks and then scoops up a bite of his meal. "Kate said he goes there often."

"Yeah, he told me the same thing."

Edward swallows before speaking again. "You're sure it was him?"

An image of a man, limp-handed and tired-looking, flits through my mind. I don't have a doubt. "Yes. He said his name was Garrett, his wife was Kate, and his daughter was Bree. And his hand…" I let the words trail off.

Edward lifts his free hand to rub at his jaw, the sound of his scruff rough against his fingers. "I guess it was him then."

"Yeah."

As we finish eating, the phone chimes, indicating a message has been received. Edward doesn't even acknowledge it. Instead, he squeezes my hand before releasing it and standing up. "Can I take your plate?"

I pick it up and rise to my feet. "Let me help you."

We tidy up in amicable silence, but I can't help but wonder about Edward's mood. I know that talking to Garrett might clear up some things, but the way he's acting right now tells me he isn't ready. I know he said he was going to talk to a professional, and I silently hope that it helps. I know what it's like to lose friends.

Just as I put the last plate away in the cupboard, I turn to see Edward drying his hands on a light-colored hand towel. He hangs it over the rail on the oven and extends his hand to me. "Sit with me?"

With a smile and the usual heart-skip that comes when I touch him, I take his hand and follow him to the largest couch. He pulls me down next to him and wraps his arms around me. I can feel his breath on my cheek when he sighs deeply. His voice is low when he speaks. "You talked to him?"

Looking down at our linked fingers, I trace lines along the creases at his knuckles. "Yeah."

Edward's hair tickles my cheek. "What'd you talk about?"

I shrug, although I know the answer. "I talked about you." I swallow. "He talked a little about you, too."

Beside me, I feel him tense. "What'd he say?"

That one's easy. "That I should forgive you. That people make mistakes, and not speaking of them ever again only makes it hurt more."

His body relaxes. He pauses for a beat. "And what did you say?"

"That he should follow his own advice."

Edward dips his head so that his forehead rests against my temple. "You…"

I roll my eyes. "I should mind my own business. I know."

He shakes his head the slightest amount, and his arms grip me tighter. "No. You stood up to a guy you've never met." He tilts a little to brush his lips against my neck. "It sounded like you defended me."

"I did defend you."

His lips murmur against my skin. "I can look after myself."

I swallow noisily. I'm not sure if I'm in trouble, but his proximity tells me…maybe not. "I know you can. But I wanted to."

The gentle caress of his lips becomes a little urgent. His mouth opens, and he sucks gently. "I like that you did that."

A little surprised, I find myself stretching my neck a little, tilting away from him. He takes advantage of having more room, and his teeth join in. I shudder and feel my body start to respond. "You do?"

"God, yes." He nips gently, and my breaths deepen. His hair tickles my cheek. "You're on my side."

"Always." I turn my head to intercept his lips, and he kisses me, open-mouthed, capturing my sighs.

Not breaking the contact of our lips, he twists me in his arms to lay me down on the couch. When I settle back into the cushions, he rests between my thighs. He pushes forward, and I can feel that he's effected as much as I am. My hips push back against him, and I let my knees settle wider. The heat of where I want him most presses against the hardness of how much he wants me.

Our lips continue to move when he grasps one hip in his hand, settling me into a gentle rhythm that I'm more than willing to go along with. He pulls back for a moment to stare intensely at me. His voice comes out as a rough whisper. "Bella."

I don't feel that I can respond with words, but I try to let my eyes tell him what my lips can't express.

_You. _

_I want you._

_Please don't let me fall._

Eyes dark, he nods and drops his head to kiss my neck. He unzips my hoodie, and the sound made by the sliding metal teeth makes me feel like I'm letting him in. When he slides my sweater from my shoulders and rids me of my shirt, exposing my chest, I feel like he's looking in to my heart. I allow my head to fall back and let him see it all.

His kisses become more urgent, and the overwhelming desire to be skin to skin hits me. I grasp the hem of his shirt, needing to remove one more barrier between us. He lifts his arms, and I bring it up from the bottom, tossing it somewhere behind me before claiming his lips with mine again. Lying beneath him in his living room, him bare-chested and me in nothing but my bra and sweat pants, I feel my skin buzzing with a current that only intensifies whenever he is near. Now that he's so close, I want him closer.

He catches my mood. He stops kissing me and rests his forehead against mine. "You sure about this? Because—"

"Yes." I gasp. He's so close. I need him closer. "Yes."

He wraps me in his arms and stands swiftly, causing an involuntary squeak to escape my lips. I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles together and kissing him the whole time as he carries me down the hall. When we reach his bedroom, he rests one hand up my spine and lowers me to the bed. He hovers above me, and I can see the shadows of his face, half of his profile bathed in the cool blue glow of the moonlight coming through the uncovered window. His eyes scan down my body and then back to my face.

Wordlessly, he shifts onto his heels, stroking his open palms down the length of my body, catching my sweatpants along the way and dragging them from my legs. I lift my hips to make the process easier, and he pauses to press a kiss on the inside of my ankle, just above the bone. The bed moves a little as he shifts, his lips tracing a path up the inside of my calf, and his tongue flicks out to tease the inside of my knee. I writhe, because it tickles.

His mouth continues on the inside of my thigh, and he pauses to murmur into my skin. "You, just here, taste delicious." I wiggle and gasp as he runs his nose farther up. His tongue teases the elastic of my panties, just at the front of my hip, and the feel of his hot breath so close to me is almost enough to make me undone. Further adding to my madness, he runs a finger up the inside of my other leg before sweeping briefly across the apex of my thighs. "I'll come back here later." His voice is husky with promise "But right now, I just want to enjoy you."

At this point, I'd pretty much agree to anything he wanted. Before I can tell him so, he moves again, pressing kisses up my stomach and pausing between my breasts. He slips an arm behind me, and I arch my back. With one flick, my bra is released and he draws it from my body. I automatically move to cover myself with my arms, but he gently catches my hands, resting them beside my head.

"Just stay like this," he says tenderly. "Don't hide yourself from me. I want to see you, Bella. I want to know what you like."

The look on his face is so honest that I simply nod in reply. He keeps eye contact with me when he lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. Watching him, I feel the coil begin to tighten in my chest, and my stomach start to slowly burn. I'm almost embarrassed to look, but I can't tear my gaze away.

I feel his tongue swirl, and my head falls back. He switches to the other side, and I shift my position slightly, rubbing my bare skin against the cotton of his sweatpants.

"These," I say, tugging at the waistband, incapable of articulating further. "Off."

He releases my nipple, giving it a caressing blow of air before he sits back. I rise with him, grabbing at the waistband of his sweats and pulling them down. He helps, and together we strip him before he casts them aside. He kneels between my spread thighs as I recline to lie, leaning on my elbows. His green-eyed gaze is intense, and he shakes his head—it almost seems like in disbelief.

"You're here."

I swallow, feeling my face flush under his stare. "I am."

He crawls forward, hovering over my body, bearing his weight on his elbows. He shifts to free one hand and gently strokes my forehead, pushing a lock of hair back before cupping my cheek in his palm. "I'm so glad you came back to me."

Whether it's his words, the way he looks at me, or his tender, reverent touch, I feel the last shred of hesitance that has bound my body slip from my skin and sink into the mattress. I close my eyes for a second, and when I open them, I look back up at him with what I hope says just how much I care for him. He seems to get the message because he leans down to kiss me.

His body covers mine, and I let the weight of him seep into my bones. I feel my every cell simmer, sending bubbles and tingles right between my thighs. When he settles closer, I can't help but bring my hips up into his. He groans and thrusts into me twice, almost in promise, then draws back onto his knees and mumbles into my neck. "Fuck, Bella. You're going to be too much."

I have no words to respond with because I'm pretty sure it's going to be the same for me. I needn't have worried, because his mouth trails a wet path down my goose-bumped flesh and his tongue teases at the elastic of my panties. He glances up at me, and I probably look back at him like the desperate woman I feel like. Then he drags cotton and lace down my legs.

He places one gentle kiss just below my belly button, then another in the shadow of my hip bone, then with his tongue flattened—

"_Oh, God._" My back arches and my fists clench. I'm mumbling, muttering, and he's doing the same against me. His lips, teeth, and tongue continue to tease, and in my head, I'm spinning. I don't know if I'm up, or down, or wherever, because Edward's mouth is better than anything in the history of whatever, and…

He circles and flicks. My stomach drops and twists.

"Your _taste._"

His tongue. His hands spreading me wider. Fingers teasing, then inside. Then…they curl.

"How does that feel? Good?"

_It's too much. It's not enough. It's—_

More. He gives me more. My breath quickens, and the ball of fire in my belly sparks, ignites, and explodes.

"_Oh…Oh…Oh…God…Edward…"_

I clench my eyes shut, and the sparks hit under my skin. My hands are in his hair, and he slows, lowering me gently back into the here and now. I let my head fall against the pillow as he kisses gently inside my thighs, and I feel the bed shift. I open my eyes lazily and see him pull off his boxers. I shuffle so I can reach, wrapping my hand around and stroking. His head falls forward, but he keeps his eyes on me.

"Edward…"

He continues to watch me as I stroke. He asks, like the gentleman he is. "Yeah?"

I nod frantically in confirmation, reaching for him to pull him closer. "Yes. Please. I want you."

He kisses me passionately then pulls away reluctantly and reaches into his nightstand. He removes a packet, opens it, and covers himself. On his hands and knees, he crawls closer to lie above me, but feeling brave, I gently place a hand on his shoulder to stop him. I keep my gaze fixed on his eyes as I ease him so that he rolls onto his back. Shifting our positions so I'm astride him, I grip him and line us up.

He reaches up to caress my breasts, gently brushing his thumbs across the peaks. "Fuck, Bella. You look so good."

Sliding his hands down my sides, he presses his palms into my hips, cradling the bones in his hands so his fingers splay toward my spine. Keeping eye contact and taking a deep breath, I let myself sink. My head falls back as I stretch and he fills.

When we're as close as we can be, Edward grips me tighter. His voice is strained, and his words fall out between gasps. "Wait. Just wait."

I can only bob my head in reply, getting used to the feeling myself. I want to move. I want to stay here forever. He's as close to me as anyone can be. He's already inside my heart—now he's in my body too.

Setting my gaze down at him, he grips my hips and lifts me. I let myself slide up before lowering again. The feeling is incredible, so I do it again. Slowly, slowly…every square inch of my skin inside and out feels his presence.

Placing my hands behind me on his thighs, I gasp when the shift in angle hits a new place and I want _that _feeling again. I move faster; he helps. Our breaths and whispered words of _more, yes, _and _faster _mingle in the almost-darkness. I take us both closer, closer, and he shifts one hand to where my flesh meets his. Again, he circles, I move faster, and still feeling the effects of earlier, I'm tumbling again.

My name falls from his lips and echoes in the darkness, and he joins me. My slack body falls forward, our chests resting together, and Edward's arms wrap around to hold me tighter. He presses a kiss to my neck.

"God, that was…"

"Yeah." I gasp the word between heavy pants.

He shifts me to press a lazy, sloppy kiss on my lips. Our tongues and lips move together, the tension of _months_ dissipating. He rolls us, slipping out of me in the process, and continues to kiss me. He rests his forehead against mine and smiles.

"I just have to…"

"Of course." I wriggle from his grasp, wrapping the sheet around my chest as he heads for the bathroom. I'm propped on one elbow when he re-emerges a few minutes later, although covering myself seems like a pretty fruitless exercise, given he saw _all_ of me at my most uninhibited just moments earlier.

He crawls back under the covers, drawing them up around us and wrapping himself around me like a cocoon. I snuggle into him, my back to his chest, and lavish in the feel of him against me.

"I'm not sure why I pushed you away," I whisper, my words feeling safe when spoken in the dark.

"I'm glad you let me catch you," he murmurs into my hair.

I twist in his embrace, curling into him and resting my head on his chest. The steady _thump-thump_ of his heart and the sound of his breathing are the most distinctive noises in the room. He speaks, and I hear his voice through his chest. "I didn't answer the phone because" he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly "…I'm afraid to talk to Garrett. The last time I did…it didn't end well."

Letting my fingers draw circles on his chest, I keep my voice low. "What happened?"

My head rises and fall with the movement of his chest. "I visited him when he was in the rehab facility." He errantly strokes the ends of my hair, and I close my eyes to listen to him and soak up the feeling of him being so close. "I'd been trying to get him all the extra help that I could. He was giving the nurses at the facility hell." Edward pauses for a moment, lost in the memory. "His injury was outside my field, so between Dad and I, we hooked him up with one of the best neurologists in the country."

My fingers keep tracing circles, almost as if trying to physically coax the words from him. He continues. "I went to visit one day after he'd been working with his physical therapist. She was one of Rosalie's contacts and, again, very good with what she did. Anyway, he was pissed and probably worn out." Beneath me, Edward sighs, and a short, humorless laugh slips from his lips. "I could've picked my moment better, I suppose. He asked why I was doing it. He said I should have left him there at the bottom of the cliff. He asked why I didn't."

"What did you say?" I whisper.

My head shifts as he shrugs. "I told him he was my friend and that I couldn't." I feel rather than hear Edward swallow above me. "He said I should have left him there because he was now useless as a man, as a husband, as a father. He said Kate could barely stand to look at him and that he thought he was better off dead. Then, he told me to get out and never come back."

I shift, resting my chin on his chest so I can see his face. His troubled eyes look right up at the ceiling. "Edward?" I say softly, and he shifts his gaze down to me. "I'm not going to tell you none of it was your fault, because I'm pretty sure you wouldn't believe me anyway. What I _am_ going to say is that you've been too hard on yourself for too long." He opens his mouth to protest, but I place my hand firmly over where his heart beats strongest. "You're a good man. You're a good friend. And you can't change the past. But you can't run." I tilt my head down to kiss where my hand is. "And I'll stand beside you, for whatever you need."

Two beats of his heart pass before he shifts, bringing my lips to the same level as his and kissing me deeply. I return his kisses with fervor, and when he covers my body with his, I embrace him with all of me. Our second time is just as intense as the first, and when I reach my peak, I know I've come to a point of no return—I'll follow him anywhere, and I'll stand beside him whenever he needs me.

Later, curled in his arms as I let my relaxed body sink into him and mind drift, I'm not sure if I dream the words I hear.

_Giving you my heart is the biggest risk of all…but you're worth it._

-~[YD]~-

Hot. I wake up _really_ hot—not a euphemism.

Cracking my eyes open to see morning's light breaking through the window, I peek over my shoulder. The slight movement makes the arms that are wrapped around me grip tighter, and I smile.

Needing the bathroom, I gently lift the arm that's covering me and slip out of the bed. Edward shifts, tucking his hand under his cheek, and sighs deeply. Within seconds, he resumes his steady, even breathing. The sight of him brings a smile to my face—he looks so peaceful that I decide to start breakfast rather than disturbing him.

After pulling on Edward's t-shirt, the same one he shed last night, and letting his scent sink into my skin, I pad my way to the guest bathroom where I left my bag last night. I tidy myself up, then with clean teeth, fresh underwear, and cozy socks to keep the hardwood floor's chill away, I make my way into the main living space.

Stopping at the end of the hallway, I gasp when I see the apartment in full morning light. While the strategically placed lamps and overhead lights make the place look impressive at night, seeing Edward's home in the bright light of day is something else entirely. Looking around and taking in the room, I can imagine myself curled up in the armchair by the huge bookcase, tucked under a snuggly blanket, with the rain beating against the full glass wall. And being in Seattle, there would be plenty of opportunity.

The light filtered through the gauzy curtains at one end of the glass wall throws shadowy forms against the grid of photographs on the far wall, and the pale color of the walls makes the space feel so much bigger in the morning's glow. I trail my fingers across the top of the leather couch, smiling at the memory of Edward pressed against me. I picture us stretched out on the couch, my legs resting across his lap as we watch a movie.

Shaking myself from my mental move-in and more than a little surprised at myself for so easily fantasizing about spending more time here, I decide to see what I can hunter-gather for breakfast. Fifteen minutes later, I'm whisking an egg mixture for French toast and getting down to the tunes playing from my plugged-in iPod.

I'm still on my Edward-induced, whole-body high, and I let the music filter through my muscles and cause my feet to twitch. My hips join in, and I let them pop in time to the beat. I give the toast a flip on the griddle, inhaling the heady aroma of cinnamon and vanilla while letting my body wiggle, shimmy, and sway.

I'm three steps into my own version of an improvised moonwalk—improvised because I can't do it properly—when I bump into a solid, warm surface. The surface wraps arms around me, and its breath tickles my neck. It also has a sexy, morning-laden voice that murmurs deliciously against my ear.

"Morning, beautiful."

I grin, setting the spatula down and letting my fingers slide down Edward's firm forearms. I tilt my head as he presses kisses to my neck. "Mmm. Good morning."

"What's this?" he asks, scruff scratching on the soft skin of my neck.

"Breakfast," I reply with a smile, allowing my eyes to fall shut. "Or at least it will be, as long as it doesn't burn."

"Mmm," he hums, his arms still firmly wrapped around me. "I'm starving."

I gasp as he nips gently. "I need to flip it."

He whispers huskily in my ear. "I could flip you."

_Holy fuck_.

My chest is tight, and my voice comes out in a strained whimper. "Yes…you could." I swallow heavily. "You haven't done that…yet."

He chuckles, and the sound send delicious tingles through me. "I'll add it to my list."

"You have a list?"

I feel his nose slide slowly up and down the side of my neck. "Yeah. Getting you out of your clothes is on it."

At his words, I consider stripping right here in the kitchen, but his next sentence causes me to pause. "Getting you out of _mine_ are higher on that list. Although, I have to say, tiny spy, you look _incredibly_ sexy wearing my clothes."

Then I do what any strong, independent, well-adjusted woman would do in my situation. I whimper.

"Later," he promises. "Our breakfast is burning."

He releases me, and I shakily reach to save the toast. When I turn again, I hear the sound of his chuckle disappear down the hallway.

-~[YD]~-

"So, I'll call you later?" Edward covers my forehead in fleeting kisses, and I nod my head against his chest.

"Yeah. I'm going to do some writing this afternoon, but I'll be around. Do you want to come over later?" I ask shyly, which is a little ridiculous. Only an hour ago Edward had me pressed against the tiles in his shower—I didn't really care too much about being shy then.

"That would be good," he replies, unwrapping me from his arms and stepping back to pick up his briefcase. "I shouldn't finish too late."

I hitch my own bag over my shoulder and follow him into the hall. He holds my hand on the way to the elevator, only releasing it to press the button for the ground floor. When the doors slide open, I walk into the lobby and release his hand to turn to him. Reaching up, I straighten his tie, smoothing it down with my fingers.

"Have a good day, dear," I tell him teasingly. He shoots a glance quickly in the direction of the security guard at the desk before bending to kiss me on the lips. From the security guard's perspective, it probably looks chaste, but the way Edward's fingers grip my waist, I know otherwise.

"I'll see you tonight," he tells me, stepping back.

"Tonight," I echo. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the cab I insisted on calling waiting out front. Edward offered to drive me home, but I have things to do in the opposite direction, and he's already going to be late—and showering took a little longer than usual.

After one more kiss, he's on his way, and I'm slipping into a cab. I pull out my phone and shoot off a text.

**Lunch? I owe you. ~B x**

* * *

**A/N:** The next chapter will be the last regular chapter of _Yosemite Decimal_ before the epilogue (nooooo! *sobsobsob*). I'm torn between being excited about wrapping up Chalky and the Bulldozer's story, and being heartbroken _because I don't want it to end! _

I'd love to hear from you. Let me know your favourite part, a character you've found appealing, or _ooh!_ I know! Ideas for outtakes! I have a few written, but am interested in hearing what _you_ would like to read!

I entered the **Smells Like Metallic Roses 90s Twific Contest**. My entry, **Awaiting Eternity** got second place for Judges' Choice. It's on my profile if you'd like to read it.

Speaking of contests, I'm super excited to bring you some lovely fics soon for the **Happily Ever After Twific contest.** Have you entered? I'd really, really, _really_ like you to! Go on…you know you want to ;) Entries close 15 March. Add the FFnet author **TwiHEAcontest** to your alerts to be notified when we post the entries!

**Some recs:**

**Starry Eyed Inside **by **Rochelle Allison –** I have no idea why I put off reading this. Now I want to read it again. So amazingly beautifully written.

**Episode** by **BoydBlog**: Reading an Aussie Bella in my own accent was really, really refreshing! It's another Actorward…what can I say? I tend to rec a few of those.


	21. Chapter 20: Safe

**A/N:** Mel, Raina, Lisa, and Louise: I bow to your amazingness.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. The Black Keys own the lyrics herein. The Bulldozer owns me, and he will forever.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

**Safe - **This is a call from the leader to indicate that he/she has safely attached the rope to the top and there is no possibility of him/her coming to harm.

It's a Monday at the start of spring, and I'm in the office, sketching out a new outline for a series of articles for the_ Times._ A familiar voice breaks my concentration.

"Hi, Bella. Team meeting in ten?"

When I look up, Tanya is smiling at me. She's tan, and her strawberry-blonde hair has platinum, sun-kissed streaks running through it. The three months she took off did her well, and when she came out to the guys in our team upon her return, they didn't even care—everyone just accepted it. Since she's been back in the office, she's been more relaxed than I've ever seen her.

Having a James-free office has also helped all of us considerably. In fact, everyone pretty much forgot about him. The only time he's mentioned is when someone by a water cooler whispers to a newer colleague, "Last year, there was this psycho…"

I give my boss a grin in return. "Sure, Tan. I'll just finish up here and meet you in the conference room."

She smiles and walks away, click-clacking her way to her office. I start gathering my stuff, grinning as I think about how much things have changed since that intense meeting we had with Marcus.

The last six months have been, quite simply, comfortable and amazing. Edward and I have settled into an easy rhythm, spending plenty of time together, alone and with our friends.

One of the most intensive things for me was solidifying friendships. Alice and I picked up right where we left off after all of the drama of last year, and the day after the first night Edward and I slept together, we giggled like schoolgirls over lunch and a few glasses of wine. I may have tipsy-dialed Edward later that day. I also may have whispered words that should have been left for the darkness of night. He didn't seem to mind, though, and when he came to my apartment that night, I was sure he didn't mind at all.

Rose and I have become especially close, and it feels a little like I've become part of Rose's brood. As soon as I met her, I knew she was loving, loyal, and fiercely protective of those closest to her. I can be thoroughly grateful that I've become one of those people who she holds dearest.

One of the most surprising developments has been my friendship with Kate. She and Edward have been close over the years, but I suppose I've become somewhat of a confidant to her, and her to me. We both have a different understanding of Edward and what he's been through, and I guess by some kind of relationship osmosis, I get _her_ too. Of course, it helps that I think Bree is just about the most amazing kid ever. It kind of gives me a little boost that she likes to hang out with me, as well. Over winter, it became way too chilly to spend too much time at the park, so between Kate, Edward, and I, we moved Bree's climbing exploits to Emmett's gym.

Having not spent too much time around children, I soon learned that kids pretty much have no fear. I guess the fear you have is based on your experiences. Like the hamster that learns not to touch the food that shocks him, as adults we learn to avoid situations that remind us of experiences we've been burned by in the past. Bree hasn't had any ugly climbing experiences firsthand, so watching her at the gym is truly something else. She's like a spider monkey, lunging from hold to hold and just _going_ for anything that seems like it's too far to reach otherwise.

In a way, I envy her.

When I belay for the little firecracker, I usually have my heart in my throat. I'm now used to her call of "watch this, Bella!" Sure, the kid had no fear, but I certainly have a healthy respect for it. And when I have her on my watch? I swear I age two years in the hour and a half's break I give Kate every two to three weeks.

While I look after Bree, Kate accompanies Garrett to his sessions with his rehab psychologist. They knew when they started that they had a lot of work to do, but both of them seem committed to it—for Bree's sake first and foremost, but also for theirs, as a couple. Garrett, to his credit, seems to really be getting his shit together. After living in denial for so long, he now accepts his injury, and a big part of that has been finding his place in the world as a person with a disability. From what Kate has told me, he tackles his rehab with the same tenacity he attacked that stupid climb that got him into this situation in the first place—with blind optimism.

Garrett and Edward have been talking, but I don't think they'll ever be as close as they once were. Both of their therapists recommended they talk things through. Like Garrett said to me in the park on that fall morning, it's the things that are left unsaid that cause the most damage. Edward returned Garrett's phone call and found out for himself that while Garrett didn't—_doesn't_—blame him for the fall, so much drama could have been saved if they'd talked earlier.

It's clear that during Garrett's first stint of rehab, he wasn't ready to face _anyone_, but it's great for everybody that they're working through things now. They've had a few joint sessions and have been out for a beer a couple of times, but their friendship will never be the crazy-intense thing they had in college. I suspect that's healthier for all involved.

Back in the present, I shake myself from my musing, close my laptop, and tuck it under my arm. Alec falls into step beside me on the way to the conference room at the end of the hall.

Not _that_ conference room—the whole office was renovated over the holiday season, and the old conference room was turned into small meeting rooms. The new, lighter, high-tech conference room is near the elevator, opposite where Gianna used to sit.

"Hey," he greets me cheerfully.

"Hi," I reply with a smile. "How was your weekend?"

He gives me his usual, relaxed grin. "Really great. The kids stayed with my mom so Jane and I could get away for the weekend. We actually tried that place you told us about…"

As Alec tells me all about his weekend away, I can't help but grin as I have my own memories of the place Alec and his wife spent their weekend. It was the same lodge where Edward and I spent New Years, curled up, _alone_, with snow falling outside.

…

_Edward's fingers tease lines along the outside of my naked thigh, sending chills across my skin despite the fact we're lying in front of the fire. "It's so great to get out of the city," he murmurs quietly. I snuggle closer, burying myself into his chest. "It's just so…quiet here."_

"_I know," I tell him, inhaling the heady scent of him and loving that it's the result of our coming together that has made it stronger. "The holidays have been so crazy. I really needed the break."_

"_You and me both." His voice is muffled as he presses his face into my hair. "Between Thanksgiving with my family…"_

_I giggle at the memory. "I can see where Alice gets it from. I mean, her mom…"_

_He chuckle-groans. "I know."_

_My giggles break into a laugh. "And Mary with _your_ mom? They're just…"_

_The scruff on his chin catches my hair as he shakes his head. "Exactly." He sighs. "I'm almost afraid to think what they'll do to my apartment while we're here."_

_I smile at the image of Esme Cullen letting her hair down. Now that I've seen it firsthand, I kind of feel Edward's pain. "It'll be fine," I reassure him, hiding the grin that immediately pops up to the image of Esme and her sister Mary polishing off the warm cider and rum punch after Thanksgiving dinner. Their antics were enough to draw their husbands away from the football game. Alice thought it was hilarious; Edward was a little mortified._

"_I can feel you laughing, you know." Edward pokes me gently in the ribs. I squirm, and he presses his lips against my forehead. His body stills again, and I sigh, soaking in his relaxed state. "I missed you at Christmas," he all but whispers. "I know you had to see your mom, but I still missed you."_

_I tilt my head back to plant a kiss on his lips. "I missed you, too." Another kiss. "Too much."_

"_Yeah?" he asks. "What's too much?"_

_My cheeks begin to heat, but he catches it when I try to hide my face. "What'd you do?" Chewing the inside of my lip, I debate on whether I should tell him or not. Our honesty policy might be my undoing here. He nudges me again. "Bella?"_

"_After we got off the phone, Christmas night…"_

_His voice is expectant. "Yeah?"_

"_I…" I squirm "…_you_ know."_

_His fingers shift slightly from the outside of my thigh, tracing lines across rather than up and down. I feel the fever in my belly start to burn. "Tell me."_

"_I can't."_

_He uses the tone that he knows drives me crazy. "Out loud, Bella. Say it."_

_It's easier to say it when I can't see him, so I squint my eyes closed and whisper my secret into the darkness. "I touched myself."_

"_You did, hmm?" The invisible path he follows comes up my side, and he brushes the side of my breast. "Here?"_

_My breath catches, and I nod._

_He follows the trail to my nipple, circling. "Here?"_

_I nod again. "Mhm."_

_When he slides his fingers downward, my stomach muscles clench. He traces directly through the thin strip of hair to where it ends and my skin becomes slicker. "Here?"_

_My hips buck forward into his hand. My word comes out as a moan. I'm agreeing. I'm asking for more. "Yes."_

_Up and down, then lower still, to where he joined me earlier. "Here?"_

_Now I'm begging. The things this man does to me. "God, yes."_

"_Fuck." He rolls me onto my back, moving over me and sliding against me. Once, twice, before pushing inside. I lift my hips, taking more of him, and for a fleeting instant, I'm glad we've had the whole "I'm clean and on the pill" conversation so we can just do _this_ whenever the mood strikes—which for Edward, is often. Not that I'm complaining._

_Later, sated and having seen fireworks of our own at midnight, he wraps me in his arms and pins me with his gaze. The thought I've had in my head for the past few weeks swims through me. It's what I didn't know—until I did. Like when you buy a new car and all you see is the same car everywhere; you wonder how you never noticed before, but now, it's all around you._

_He beats me to it. "I love you."_

_I feel it in my bones when I give him my words in return. I whisper them against his lips. "I love you, too."_

…

"Good weekend, everyone?" Tanya greets us all brightly. We respond with murmured assents, and then she's off and running. "Right. Let's talk spring. We're outdoors specialists, guys. This is _good_ for us. No more freaking snow."

Beside me, Eric laughs. "Tan, it doesn't snow here that much, and besides—you missed winter completely."

Tanya's smile is blinding. I'm jealous of the winter she spent during the southern hemisphere summer. While she was all bright and sunny-side, we all drowned under heavy, rain-soaked boots and damp hoods. My hair was in a perpetual ponytail due to the damp-air-induced frizz. Not going to lie—I kind of missed Arizona.

"Ah," she says flippantly, waving her hand. "Anyway. What do we have coming up?"

We go around the table, tossing ideas around. When it comes to me, I sit straighter in my chair. I remember my first few meetings, close to a year ago, when I reluctantly raised my hand. Those days are gone—I don't feel like the rookie I was when I started. And working with Eric as acting team leader while Tanya was away was great—it was good to work under a different leader and get a fresh perspective.

These days have been much busier for me, having taken over most of the outdoors online writing since James left. It's a challenge I think I've risen to, and while I'm travelling much more than I used to, Edward and I make it work.

"What's on your mind, Bella? I can tell you're dying to share something." Tanya gives me an encouraging smile.

I clear my throat. "Yeah. I'm hoping to trail the youth outreach program that's going on their first Beyond the Boundary trip to the Olympic Peninsula. They've had some great results with their half-days, but this will be their first overnighter. I thought I could tag along, you know. Get a firsthand perspective of what these kids face." I shift in my chair—this is outside the realm of the typical topics we cover. "I really want to show how connecting with nature can help give these kids a new lease on life."

Tanya looks pensive for a moment, and I can see her mental cogs turning. During the past few months, Jasper's social work program has hooked up with Quake Outdoors to run an outward-bound-type program. They've been running short programs, which Leah has mostly been leading, with great results. Their first weekend-long program is coming up, and some of the kids attending are one step away from juvie.

Edward freaked out a little when I told him I wanted to go, and judging by the way Tanya's thinking things over now, I can tell she's having the same concerns for my safety.

"Sounds fine," she says cautiously. She leans forward, her elbows on the table and her hands tented in front of her. Her tone is serious. "But Gianna goes, too."

I hide my smirk—Gianna's going to _love_ this. She'll handle the kids fine, but her idea of "outdoors" is more dining _al fresco_ rather than roughing it. I nod in agreement.

The meeting continues, and when Tanya calls it to a close, she asks me to stay behind.

"What's up?" I ask, sliding into a seat adjacent to her and taking a sip from my water bottle.

"Marcus called earlier," she comments, straightening the papers in front of her then leaning back in her chair. "James is in jail."

I blanch. "What?"

She rolls her eyes. "Asshole never learned, did he? Apparently he came on a little strong with a girl in a bar in Oklahoma. The loser was too stupid to notice she wasn't there alone. He pushed—the girl's boyfriend pushed back." She gives me a look that gives nothing away. "So, yeah. James has been put away for assault, sexual assault, resisting arrest…" She circles her hand in the air to indicate that the list obviously doesn't end there.

"Wow," I say breathily. "How long is he there for?"

Tanya shrugs. "I'm not sure. I think given his history, quite a while."

We chat a little longer; then, having convinced each other we're okay, we get up to leave. I'm working all afternoon in the office—my larger workload requires I do longer hours here. I still get a couple of days at home, but the office is a rather pleasant working environment these days.

I swipe myself into the lobby—that's something else new about the office: improved security—and pass the security desk.

"Heading out for the day?" asks the receptionist as I press the button to call the elevator. Heidi's not as feisty as Gianna, but she's friendly enough.

"Just out for lunch," I answer, looking forward to getting out of the office for a bit. "I'll be back later."

Heidi smiles pleasantly. "Enjoy."

I call my response as the elevator doors drift shut. "Thanks. You too."

-~[YD]~-

"Are you going to the climbing gym tonight, Bella?" Alec asks as I slide my hands through the sleeves of my coat.

I grin in reply. "Yeah. Are you taking the kids?"

Alec stretches his arms, and winces a little. "No. I took them yesterday." He rubs at his shoulder. "I think a night in front of the TV is more my speed tonight."

Laughing lightly, I pick up my laptop bag. "It always hurts more on the second day."

He rolls his eyes. "Thanks for the heads-up." I bid him good evening and make my way out of the building.

Tanya's right—spring is definitely on its way. I'm used to spring in Arizona, the sweet smell of orange blossom and the bursts of color that appear, but I notice the subtle differences in the air here in Seattle. The air is still cool and the wind still has a bite, but the spring holds hope, and I can't wait. With spring, comes warmer weather, and with warmer weather, comes my favorite thing of all—outdoor climbing. The thought alone is enough to make my fingers itch.

Carefully crossing the street to the parking lot, I hit the button on the fob, and I cringe. I do it every time.

The truth is, my old, faithful truck was getting far too expensive to keep fixing, even with Emmett's friend giving me discounts. Both Charlie and Edward convinced me to let it go, and I ended up selling it to a guy who was going to use it for parts. Not that there would have been many useful parts left, but at least I know it's getting another chance. Even if that chance is inside another truck.

New beginnings and all that. I'm thinking of it as recycling.

Missing the creak that usually accompanies the opening of the driver's side door, I slide into the smooth, leather seat. I can't help it—a smile spreads across my face. It smells like leather, and _him_.

Rather than a roar, the car starts with a gentle hum. Sure, it handles well and it's cheap to run, but it lacks the _character_ that my truck had. I sigh. No point in wallowing.

I guide the car through the familiar streets, half expecting to be able to remove my hands from the wheel and have the car take me there on its own accord. Finding a parking space a little ways from the gym, I park easily—partially due to the help of the automatic sensory-thingies—and turn off the engine. There's no clatter, no bang, and no puff of smoke. Just the quiet sound of the engine…then nothing.

Grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, I slip out of the car and stand on the pavement. Hitting the fob, the familiar double-flash of orange light comes from the car.

After quickly glancing around, I lean in to speak in a low voice. "We're still not friends, you know." The car sits there, the waning spring light bouncing off the silver paint. I shake my head in chastisement to myself, but I continue muttering anyway. "Silly soccer mom car. Should've kept my mouth shut about you being lonely."

A voice tinged with humor startles me. "Talking to the car again, B?" I turn to see Alice grinning at me. She has a leather backpack slung over one shoulder and has let her hair grow out to a stylish bob. She swears it's as long as it has ever been. She nods toward the car, her face a picture of innocence. "Want me to give you two a moment?"

While I appreciate Edward giving me exclusive use of the Volvo—he wasn't driving it because he loves his Aston so much—my pride still hurts a little. He made me apologize to it one afternoon in front of the gym, which I found utterly demeaning. Edward, on the other hand, laughed his ass off. Then he brought Emmett out, and they _both_ laughed.

I shake my head—and very maturely stick my tongue out at her—before hitching my own satchel over my shoulder and taking her arm with my free hand. We walk down the block toward the gym, chatting about how her mom is driving her crazy. Alice and Jasper got engaged on Valentine's Day, and her mom, Mary, is super-excited about the wedding planning. Alice isn't one to walk away from a party, but even she has her limits.

Waving at Laurent on the way in, we head for the changing rooms, shedding day clothes for more appropriate climbing attire. Alice says she's going to hang out in the lounge area, and I tell her I'll meet her after I've warmed up. She gives me a wave on her way out, and I sit down on the bench to pull on my shoes. The sound of gagging coming from the direction of the stalls breaks the quiet.

I tentatively walk over and speak softly. "Hey, are you okay in there?" The door was shut when we came in—whoever is in there has obviously been there as long as Alice and I've been changing.

The door swings open, and an ashen-faced Rose is standing there. She rests her palm on the wall of the stall.

"Rose! Shit, you look terrible!"

She rakes her ice-blue eyes over me in response, taking in my messy-bun hair. "You're hardly a fucking oil painting yourself, Bella."

Rolling my eyes and ignoring her snark, I take her hand and help her to the bench. She waves me off, heading for the sink instead. After rinsing her mouth and patting down her face with a wet paper towel, she tosses the paper in the trash and sits down. I perch next to her, albeit keeping my distance. If she decides to hurl again, I want to be able to make a quick getaway.

"What's wrong? Is it something you ate?"

Rose snorts loudly in response, the sound echoing off the walls of the locker room. "Ha! If it'd gone in my mouth, I wouldn't be in this situation to begin with."

My face probably shows me processing, and I practically hear the _ding_ of a light bulb going off above my head. "Holy shit! You're _pregnant?"_

Her blonde head nods. "Yeah. About ten weeks." She reaches up to re-tie her hair. She grasps the front of her RMC Massage shirt and pulls at it repeatedly, fanning herself in the process. "Morning sickness is kicking my ass."

My mind drifts to when we hung around after climbing last Thursday. Rose had sipped ginger ale while we all had a beer. I smile at her. "I'm so happy for you. I know you guys were thinking about kids. Rose, this is awesome."

"Thanks," she says, a mild smile teasing her lips. "Can you not say anything though? I mean, it's still early." She smacks her lips together, and I offer her my unopened water bottle. After taking a swig, she exhales. "We just want to reach twelve weeks before we say anything. I was pregnant last year, just before we met you." She sips again then screws the cap back on, twisting the bottle in her hands. "I lost that baby at eight weeks, so we're keeping quiet and just crossing everything for now."

Sweaty and sticky aside, I reach forward to hug her anyway. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I pat her damp hair. "It'll be fine," I tell her. "I can feel it."

Pulling back, I grip her hands in mine. I'm so happy for her that I feel my heart flip and tears teasing the corners of my eyes. I give her hands a squeeze. "Can I tell Edward? I'm not sure I can keep it from him."

"Sure," she says, smiling. She knows about our tell-all policy. "I just don't want…" she rolls her eyes "…you know. People talk, especially around here."

I grin and hug her again. "I really am happy for you guys."

"Thanks." She stands. "I better get back. I've got a patient in ten minutes and need to read through their file." She shakes her head. "My memory is like a fucking sieve at the moment."

Rising to my feet, I grab my iPod and a fresh water bottle as Rose inspects her reflection. She's getting her game face on, so I leave her to it.

When I reach the cave, I'm thrilled to find it empty. I take the Skittles* approach for my warm up, loving the feel as my muscles stretch and letting the familiar burn set in. Once I'm nice and limber, I scroll through the iPod to find my new climbing playlist, set it in the dock, and let it fly.

The strong beat and Florence Welch's voice surrounds me through the cave's in-built speakers, and I position myself for the sit-start of the current bane of my existence, unable to resist sticking my tongue out at the beta sheet at the beginning of the climb. It seems like the problem-setter's name is smirking back at me in defiance.

.

Route: _Beat THIS, Chalky_

Grade:_ You tell me if you can finish it._

Route Setter:_ E. Cullen_

First:

.

Fucker.

So far, the best I've done with this is making it about three moves from the end. The third to last move is reachy—like _really _reachy. So reachy in fact that I've done everything short of let go completely and Superman for it. Anyway, with every attempt, I eat mat hard.

About twenty minutes later, I'm about ready to go and get a drill from Emmett so I can re-set the stupid route myself. I'm sweaty, I'm sore, and I'm frustrated as hell.

Hooking my knee over a jug to give myself a break, I stretch my fingers and re-chalk my hands. I'm about to give up when a song pops up in my playlist. I'd thrown it in as an afterthought, but right now, for this situation, it's nothing short of perfect.

The beat is slow, sexy, and makes me want to move. The lyrics in the first verse pretty much sum up what my approach to this is going to have to be.

_The go-getter_

_I'll be the go-getter_

_Yes I am_

_I'll be the go-getter_

_That's my plan_

_The go-getter_

I grasp the red plastic, not gripping too hard so as to not waste an ounce of energy. Leaning back, I let my arm muscles stretch, and I swing my hips, I enjoy the relief that courses through my burning muscles in my sides. I hurt, but it's good. Reaching with my arm, I make the next move easily. A pop of my hip and the next one is a breeze.

Working the wall, I dance, rather than climb, the next few moves. Taking a brief break, I reach up to tug at my hair, releasing my bun so my hair falls in a ponytail down my back. Arching my neck, I feel the strands stick a little to my sweaty back. Another two moves…then I feel him watching me. His voice over my shoulder teases me, taunts me.

"Nailed it yet?"

I gasp. His breath tickles the sweaty skin of the back of my neck. "Not yet."

I feel a finger tease the length of my spine, causing me to shiver. "Go on, then."

"You're distracting me," I tell him, trying to shake him off. My ass wiggles in the process, and he reaches down to squeeze the tense muscle through my leggings. I wiggle again and use a firmer voice. "Sit over there."

His low chuckle drifts, and I hear the creak of a crashmat behind me as he sits down. I still haven't looked at him.

Three more moves. Then I'm at…_that_ one.

"It's this one, isn't it," he says, seemingly hearing my thoughts. His tone is still teasing. "It gets you every time."

I square my shoulders, although I'm hanging off the wall. "I can do it."

The sound of Edward shifting on the plastic-coated crashmat suggests he's getting comfortable. The low tone of his voice never fails to affect me. "I have no doubt."

I pause. I feel the music in every muscle, but as with any time he's near me, I feel his gaze more. I can't see him, but I know he's watching. He doesn't have to give me gushing spiels about his faith in me, or motivational speeches about what I'm capable of. I can feel it—his cocky confidence that initially caught my eye…although on my first impression had it shrouded in arrogance. I draw strength from him, just as he does from me.

_Just go for it, Bella._

My leg kicks out. My toe hooks. I lock on, and then with my hand, I push off. My movement isn't graceful—it's raw, it's desperate, and it's needy...but I hit it. Two more moves, and I'm done. Before my feet can hit the mat, Edward has me by my hips and has spun me, my back to the wall and hard plastic pushing into my skin. His lips are on mine; my legs are around his waist. He presses himself against me.

"I knew it," he says, his voice raw. "You can do fucking anything."

I push back with my hips where he's pinning me. He groans, trailing his lips to beneath my ear and kissing.

"Edward." I gasp when he nips at me. "I—"

He cuts me off. "Fuck climbing. I want to take you home."

"But you haven't even—oh…"

He captures my mouth again with his. The intensity in his gaze when he pulls away _almost _convinces me, until we're interrupted.

"How many times have I told you guys? No—"

"Fucking in the cave during business hours," Edward and I finish in chorus. I snicker, my heart pounding, and feel Edward chuckle against me. What Emmett doesn't know is that it's already been done after business hours. Twice.

I peek over Edward's shoulder and see Emmett standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders taking up a fair amount of the opening. "Hi, Emmett."

He waves a finger at me in mock chastisement but gives me one of his dimple-punctuated grins. "Speed-climbing?"

Edward plants a kiss to my lips and sets me down. "Be there in a minute," he calls over his shoulder. Emmett disappears, and Edward takes my hand. "Come belay for me?"

"Of course." Any chance to watch him climb, I'll take it. And the fact that he's super-competitive? Even hotter. The view from the belay point isn't bad either.

With the help of his therapy, Edward has started climbing regularly again. Indoors only so far, but he's definitely getting more confident. We've planned an outdoor climbing trip over Memorial Day weekend with Jake, Leah, and the others—we've even managed to convince Alice to camp, although I'm now unsure if Rose will be up for it. Edward will undergo some pretty intensive sessions leading up to then, but together, I know we can handle it.

Alice calls the start, and Jasper and I work the ropes. I watch my boyfriend claw his way up the wall, the muscles in his calves tensing as he pushes off and his forearms doing things that make my insides turn to liquid. His hands grip and his fingers wrap around the holds, and he finds purchase on plastic that I wouldn't even attempt.

My body reacts, because I know what those hands are capable of. Those hands make me feel safe when they hold mine as we walk with Bree through the park. They trace lines on my thigh under the table at Edward's parents' when we go for dinner, an unspoken hint that he wants to leave early. It's those hands that make me shatter when they grip me tight. They're the hands that will, next week, hold a scalpel as Edward attempts his first major orthopaedic surgery in years, at his dad's hospital. Those are the hands that work a rope and keep me from falling. And it's Edward's hands that can show me the deepest love with the lightest touch.

As Edward and Emmett clamber up the wall, Alice and Rose heckle and cheer as they sit leaning against the wall opposite the newly repainted speed-climbing wall. Unsurprisingly, the Jake and Emmett bromance has continued, especially with Jake spending more time in Seattle to work on the project with Jasper. A drunken bet made after a few beers and a speed-climbing challenge led to Emmett repainting it in Quake colors. The Quake logo is now splashed proudly along the length of the wall. Jake hasn't seen it yet, but he will when he and Leah come and stay next weekend. They'll take my apartment, given I practically live at Edward's these days.

When Edward triumphantly taps out at the top, whooping in excitement and making rude gestures at Em as I lower him to the ground, I can't help but think how far we've come. He wraps his arms around me, asking for his regulation victory kiss. As I kiss him, the metal of the carabiners between us pressed into our skin and my hands in his hair, I am grateful for the time I fell. And I know that every time I fall in the future, I won't need a rope to catch me.

I have my Bulldozer.

…**-~[fin]~-…**

* * *

**A/N:** And that's it.

I can't thank you all enough for your amazing support during my first, slightly fumbled, attempt at FanFiction. I will gush more after the epilogue. Brace yourselves. ;)

**Some Recs:**

_Please_ go and read (and review!) all the entries in the **Happily Ever After Twific Contest**! They're amazing! The profile is in my favourite author list on my profile. Voting starts soon!

**Orange Kisses and Peppermint Hearts** by **SparrowNotes24**. The love I have for this darling little one-shot, and it's classy author, is boundless. Read it (and leave whispery reviews for her so she expands it!)

**Some Definitions: **

**Climbing Skittles - **Climbing an indoor route using holds of all different colors. Given this name because you're "tasting the rainbow."

Seriously. Thank you all.

Mag xx


	22. Epilogue: Traditional

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a few old editions of _Rock _magazine. More at the bottom...

* * *

**Epilogue**

**Traditional –** A style of rock climbing in which a climber, or group of climbers, places all gear required to protect against falls.

"I do."

Edward grins at me, and all over, I'm a puddle of goo in four-inch pumps. God, the things this man makes me think. He knows it, too. Although we're standing in front of a huge crowd of people, he winks.

I want to tell him, _"Forget later. Now will be fine."_ But this isn't the time nor the place. So I shift my legs and keep my mouth shut. I do, however, give him a glare. Judging by the smirk he gives me in return, he just takes it as a challenge.

The minister's next words catch our attention. "By the power vested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

The intimate but vocal crowd claps and cheers, and Jasper grabs Alice, sweeping her into a dramatic stage kiss. I shift Alice's small but deceivingly heavy bouquet into the crook of my arm and awkwardly clap along with the rest of the well-wishers.

"Thank God," murmurs Rose out of the corner of her mouth. "These shoes are killing me."

I grin at her in response. "Not surprising," I tell her. "You haven't worn heels in over a year." I turn back to Alice, her face half covered by a netted veil, before I pass her bouquet back to her with a smile, mouthing _congratulations. _Alice beams back in return before shifting her glowing gaze to her new husband.

"Why couldn't I have worn sneakers?" Rose asks as she takes Emmett's arm and stands in place behind the newlyweds.

Shrugging and taking my own boyfriend's arm, I simply nod in our fashionista friend's direction. "Be thankful she didn't make you wear a corset is all I'm saying. You _know_ it could have happened."

"Wait, corsets? What?" Edward suddenly snaps to attention. "You're wearing a corset?"

"Who said what?" Emmett twists his head around suddenly before whipping back to Rosalie. "Babe." He lowers his voice, which is useless—we can still hear him. "Is it the black one?"

Edward snorts, and I stifle a laugh. Jasper turns ever so slightly to offer a warning to Emmett. "Dude. My sister, remember? And she's a mom! Geez!"

"What?" asks Emmett innocently. "Moms can be hot. Look at Mrs. Cullen." He nods his head in Esme's direction as we all walk back down the aisle.

"Dude!" Edward whisper-shouts, flicking him on the back of the ear. "That's _my_ _mom!"_

I laugh harder when Emmett tries to argue that he can't be blamed because older women are hot, and Rose is a MILF. Alice all but growls at all of them. "Guys, seriously? I've been married less than two minutes. We haven't even made it back down the aisle yet. Let me have my _freaking moment!_"

Edward's breath tickles my ear as he tries in vain to hide his chuckle behind my coiffed hair, having been given _so_ many warnings about not doing anything to upset his cousin on her wedding day. No one seemed to remember that it was Emmett who was most deserving of that warning.

After a very short photo session, we make it to the reception. After Jasper and Alice's first dance, I find myself smiling at Alice dancing with her dad, Jasper dancing with his mom, and Emmett holding little Lily close to his chest, swaying softly to the music. I find my mind racing—I've been travelling so much lately that I haven't seen my dad in ages, I haven't seen my mom in longer, and the sight of Emmett and his daughter jolts a feeling that someday that might be Edward with _our_ daughter. Something catches in my chest, and I try to force a smile to my face. As always, Edward picks up on it, and he squeezes my hand.

"Are you okay?" he asks, studying me carefully.

I swallow and force the smile wider. "Yeah. Just thinking." My eyes flick back to the man towering over most of the others on the dance floor.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, following my gaze. I imagine he guesses because he turns back to me, leaning in to run his nose along my cheekbone. "Ah."

Shrugging my shoulders, I reach over to pick up my wine glass. "It's nothing."

"I want that, you know," he says, his voice low. "With you."

My stomach swirls, or maybe it's my ovaries. My voice is a whisper. "Me too."

Reaching around me so his hand rests on my waist, he grips me through the soft fabric of my dress. "Wanna go practice?"

"You're incorrigible," I tell him, sipping my wine. I feel goose bumps spread along my bare shoulders from where his closeness makes his breath caress my skin. "We need to at least wait until dessert." I hear him take a breath to speak, and I turn to face him, my forehead gently resting against his. "Don't say it."

His eyes twinkle with mirth. "Oh, but it was too easy." Edward kisses my cheek before pulling back a little. "Dance with me?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You know I don't dance."

"On the contrary. You danced pretty well last night."

I laugh. "That doesn't count."

He pulls me close to him and stands up, bringing me with him. "Come on, tease."

I giggle and follow him to the dance floor. Reaching up to link my fingers behind his neck, he rests his in the curve of my lower back. I close my eyes for a beat and sigh, happy to be in his arms. "I'm looking forward to this week."

"Me too," he says. "It's going to be nice to come along with you for a change."

"I haven't been to the Peninsula in so long," I muse, my fingers teasing the hair above his neck. "Not since that trip…"

"Yeah, it was a good one," he says, breathing through his nose.

I tilt my face up to look at him. "You were amazing."

Edward smiles crookedly back down at me. "So were you." He gives me a quick kiss.

My lips curve at the memory of that weekend a year ago. I'd watched Edward tick route after route, his confidence finally returned. While his skin had softened and he wasn't so prepared for the rock, the hours in the gym had done him well and the climbs were easy. I slide my hands down to rest them on his shoulders, feeling hard muscle beneath the cotton of his shirt. Edward's return to climbing has, indeed, served him well.

The wedding reception is perfect, and I enjoy dancing with my boyfriend and even a silly dance with my girls. I'm taking a breather, sipping at water, when Esme sits next to me, a sleeping Lily in her arms. I smile at her, and she gives me an Edward-esque grin in return.

"It was a great wedding," I say, gazing down at Lily's tiny face.

"Yes," she murmurs, rocking the sleeping child gently and smiling at me. "Weddings make for lovely parties." Something crosses her face before she turns her attention back to the little girl again. "Are you all packed?"

I nod in reply. "All ready to go. We probably should head off soon. We've got an early start."

Esme reaches over and pats my hand gently. "Have a wonderful time, Bella." There's that look again. "Edward has been looking forward to this week for some time."

Just then, the man in discussion arrives next to my chair. "Ready to go?" he asks, his hand resting on my shoulder.

I place mine on top of it and look up at him. "Ready," I reply, standing up. Edward places my shawl across my shoulders and bends down to kiss his mother on the cheek.

"Have a lovely time, you two," she says.

He grins back at her, and he's wearing that same look she had. "We will," he replies confidently.

We say our goodbyes to his father and our friends. When we say goodbye to Alice, who is clinging to her new husband, it's evident she wants to leave too. I give her a wink and a hug. She whispers a _thanks for everything_ in my ear and tells me to enjoy the week away.

After offering the same sentiments to her, Edward places his arm around my waist and we walk out to where the valet brings the car. Edward helps me in, and I watch his strong frame swagger around the front of the car, his suit hugging him deliciously. I'm still looking when he slides into the car. He presses the ignition before turning to me and offering me the grin that melts me.

"I love you," I can't resist telling him.

He leans across the console, giving me a kiss that burns with promise. "I love you too, Bella."

When we arrive at his apartment, he makes good on that promise before we both fall asleep.

-~[YD]~-

I turn off the highway and into the main entrance of the National Park. Edward reaches across the console and places his hand over mine, letting his fingers fall into the gaps between my own. I turn slightly and give him a smile. "We're here."

"We are," he replies, stroking my skin gently before letting a teasing finger trail the back of my hand as he lets go. I shiver, and he chuckles, turning his attention to the written directions on the paper in his lap. "The Ranger Station is just up ahead." We pull in, announcing our arrival to the ranger, and show that our gear is up to standard. Once we've got the all clear, we get back into the car.

After continuing along the main road for a little while, Edward gestures ahead of us. "Turn left at that sign."

Following the smaller side road, a cloud of dust forms behind the SUV as we drive along the unsealed road beneath tall trees. "I haven't been this way," I comment. "We always turned off farther along when I came with the guys."

"Apparently this one is not used by most of the tourists." Edward glances up, his eyes following the road ahead. "And it being a Sunday, most people will be on their way home anyway."

He's probably right. On the way in, Edward and I passed several cars leaving the park. I suppose this is a benefit of starting a trip at the end of a weekend rather than the beginning. Another turn and after crossing a stream, we find the secluded, lesser-used campground that Jake's directions have led us to. I turn off the engine and rest back in my seat before facing Edward. "Well, here we are."

His eyes flick from my eyes to my lips, and my pulse responds as it always does. In the next instant, the look is gone, and he's unbuckling his seat belt. "Well. Let's find a spot and get set up." He slips out of the car quickly, shutting the door behind him with a thud.

I raise my eyebrows at his sudden departure from the car and find myself smiling a little in amusement. I slide out, grabbing my phone although it has no coverage here, deep in the forest. When I get to the rear of the vehicle, Edward is dragging the tent from the back of the car. "I'll set this up," he calls over his shoulder as he walks toward where the fire pit is. "Why don't you hang the food?"

I head off to try to keep our food away from bears' temptation as Edward commences pitching the tent. We continue to work at getting set up, and I enjoy the peace that comes with being so far from civilization. Straightening from my position after setting the fire, I take a deep breath. The air is so fresh. I smile as I see Edward's rear end peeking from the doorway of the tent. While I enjoy the quiet solitude of solo trips, camping with Edward definitely has its perks.

As if he hears my thoughts, he slowly looks over his shoulder, giving me a wry grin. "Enjoying the view, Swan?"

I stalk toward him. "Immensely."

His grin breaks into a full-out smirk. "Why don't you come over here?" he asks, shifting so he's sitting in the mouth of the tent. "You could check that I've set the tent up properly."

"Hmm," I murmur, his gaze causing my body to flush. "I should do that." Crouching in front of him, I squeal when he pulls me into the tent, tossing me so I'm lying on top of the sleeping mat big enough to fit both of us. He zips the screen of the tent closed before crawling to hover above me. He slides his hand beneath my t-shirt. I giggle as his fingers skate across my stomach. "Didn't we come here to enjoy the outdoors?"

"We'll get to that." Edward's lips find my neck. "I'd rather enjoy you, first."

"Sounds good." I gasp when he finds that spot where my earlobe meets my neck. Words aren't needed when he removes my shirt and then his own. The peace of the forest lies beyond the cocoon of our tent, where the sounds in the air are gasps and moans. He pulls my sweats down over my hips, and I lift to let him pull them from my legs. I reach down to unbutton his cargo pants, shoving wildly with my hands to push down them and his boxers as his lips find mine, and I finish the job with my feet.

He traces across my cotton-covered heat, but I'm out of patience.

"Edward?" He pauses. "Take them off and get inside me already."

He groans but pulls the cotton down. _"Fuck, _I love it when you talk like that."

Positioning himself at my entrance, he pauses. "I love you."

The softness in his eyes undoes me. "I love you too."

He captures my mouth with his, his tongue mimicking what's going on down below. He fills me, before he slides out and in again.

"That feels so good." I let my head fall back and my eyes close, and he knows it. He knows what to do to get me going, and he goes for my throat. His hips push, and he shifts his arms beneath my knees so they end up close to my ears. Like this, he hits so deep that my breath comes out in whimpered gasps.

"Bella," he says reverently. "I'll never want anyone else."

My eyes find his, and I watch the concentration etched into his face. "Me neither," I tell him, and I mean every word.

His hair falls in front of his eyes, swaying to the beat of his movement, and my lips open as he pushes me closer. Closer.

"I'm so…"

He shifts, changing the angle. It's better, and I'm there, and so is he.

Collapsing beside me, he finds the packet of wet wipes stashed in the front of my pack. He cleans us up, then pulls an unzipped sleeping bag over us both.

"How about a nap first?" he murmurs, and my eyes are already drifting closed. "Enjoy the outdoors later."

I smile, my muscles aching in delicious ways. "Sounds perfect."

-~[YD]~-

The next morning, I toss the dregs of my coffee into the bushes. After we woke yesterday following our nap, we didn't have time to go far from the campsite. Today, I wanna _do_ stuff.

I look over at Edward, who is perched by the campfire eating the last of his muffin. "What do you feel like doing?" I ask, stretching my arms high over my head. "We could go for a longer hike and check out that waterfall we didn't see yesterday afternoon."

"Actually…" he says, rubbing the back of his neck and standing up "…I wouldn't mind going for a climb."

I drop my arms and shrug. "Suits me," I say, bending down to dig through the pack sitting just outside the tent for the car keys. We left our climbing gear locked in the trunk. "I'll just clean my teeth and grab the gear."

"Let me do the same, and I'll help you."

Once we've got everything together, I loop the rope over my shoulder and wander in the direction of the wide path off the campsite. When I'm almost there, I turn to see Edward walking in the opposite direction. He's headed for a narrow path that looks hardly used. I stop, hooking my thumb over my shoulder as I call to him. "Shouldn't we be going that way?"

He shakes his head firmly, his auburn hair flicking a little. "No. No, it's this way."

I stare back at him, confused. "But I thought we were going to try—"

"This way, Bella," he cuts me off.

I stand still and rest a fist on my hip. "Edward, I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be going down that way." My finger is pointing decidedly in the direction of the wide, well-worn path.

Edward pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket and waves it in the air. "This says we go _this_ way." He turns on his heel and walks off.

I sigh. _He's so stubborn._ Not wanting an argument, I follow him before he disappears completely into the forest and leaves me here alone. "Fine," I call after him. "But tomorrow, we check out the routes down _that_ way." I have to hurry a little so that I can catch up to his loping steps. He easily avoids tree roots and holds overhead branches out of the way as I follow.

We continue to walk for another ten minutes or so, before we arrive at a small clearing. Stepping farther into the intimate, yet open, space, I gasp.

A sheer rock face surrounds the space on one side, and three walls of tall trees border us on the other. It feels like a large, open-aired room. The ground, although dotted by seat-sized rocks, is carpeted in lush green grass and pink, purple, and white wildflowers. It's quite evident that people don't come here often because the flowers aren't trampled. It's perfect.

"Wow, this spot is beautiful." The trees around us tower toward the sky, but there's enough space between the tree line and the cliff for sunlight to stream in. We managed to pick a perfect day—the temperature is comfortable, but the sun provides enough warmth to make me want to turn my face into it and soak it up.

"Yeah," Edward says, sounding a little nervous. He's quiet, and I can hear the gentle rushing of a stream nearby. He unloops his rack and sets it on the small blue plastic tarp he's spread amongst the flowers. Pulling that piece of paper from his pocket again, he studies it, then jams it back in his pocket, glancing up at the wall. "You wanna lead?"

Shrugging, I set my own rack down and sit on the edge of the tarp to pull on my shoes. "Okay. Can I see the beta sheet? I don't know the routes here."

"No!" he answers quickly, gripping his pocket. "I mean, don't you want to on-sight?"

I shade my eyes, looking up at the wall. It looks simple enough, and the rock doesn't look too manky. I bite the inside of my cheek as I mentally find a path up the wall above where Edward is setting up. There's a decent crack that fades in and out, but the lack of chalk marks suggests this hasn't been done often, or recently. I stand up, feeling a little more confident. With plenty of protection, I think I can do it.

Walking over to Edward and standing beside him, I notice he's definitely nervous. He's shuffling his feet and flicking the carabiners looped through his harness. I give him a glance, certain he'll tell me if something's bothering him, before I tie on. When I'm chalking my hands, the nervous clinks get the better of me. His eyes are darting between the rope in his hands and the wall.

"Are you okay?" I ask, placing my chalky hand on his hard forearm. The muscles tense beneath my fingers.

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "I'm fine."

"Okay," I say, drawing the word out a little. "On belay?"

He takes a deep breath, letting it out solidly. "On belay. Climb when ready."

I set my fingers into the crack. "Climbing."

I wedge my foot into the gap and hoist myself up. The clearing is silent but for my steady breathing and the sound of metal clinking. I want to ask Edward how he found this place and what this route is called, but I'll do it once I'm down.

The fissure gives me great purchase, and I push my toes into the tighter parts. I set my protection at close enough points so the route isn't too run out, and I crane my neck up to see where the natural finishing point is. At one stage, my foot slips where I have it pressed against the flat surface, but I'm ready for it and brace myself. I catch myself on my arms before I can actually fall. It's enough to make me pant a little, but not enough to freak me out completely.

"You okay, love?" Edward calls up.

"I'm okay," I respond. "Thought it had me there for a minute."

"You've got it, babe," he calls back. "You're doing great."

I take a deep breath, letting my shoulders rise and fall, before continuing. My feet go left, right. I chalk my hands as I go higher and higher, then come to the crux move. It's the last before the finish.

"Got me?" I ask.

Edward's voice drifts back. "Always."

I smile a little then go for it. I feel the pull in the muscles of my ribs as I wrench myself up, using my toes to scramble the rest of the way. When I tap the end, I giggle. My legs feel like jelly, but I'm excited—it's my first on-sight in ages.

"You want me to downclimb and clean, or will you try it?" I call down.

"Leave it," Edward calls, and I can see his smile from up here. "I'll clean."

Leaning back on the rope, I let Edward lower me, my feet pushing out from the wall to avoid my knees getting skinned on the way down. Bouncing my way down, I let my legs soften as my feet touch the ground, and I pull on the rope to give myself enough slack to unclip.

"That was fun," I say, and I can hear the excitement in my own voice. "Who told you about it?"

Edward unclips his carabiner, and he seems more nervous now than when I was climbing. He palms the back of his neck before pulling at his hair. "Jake, actually." He clears his throat. "We came about a month ago, when you were hiking in Oregon."

"Ah," I reply, pushing up onto my toes and then rocking back on my heels. I frown—I can't remember him telling me he'd been out this way. Edward is still flicking the carabiners on his harness again. I hold my hand out. "So, can I see it? The beta sheet?"

Edward sighs deeply as he reaches into his back pocket. He grasps the paper in his hands and unfolds it. The paper flickers—his hands are shaking.

I eye him carefully before taking the trembling paper. There's a sketch of the wall, and pro marks are plotted out. A glance at the wall tells me I climbed this pretty much the way it was written. My eyes flick to the top of the page, and I sharply gasp. My heart is pounding.

"Edward?" I ask in a whisper, the reason his tremble now causing my voice to shake. "What is this?"

His eyes meet mine, blazing with the love I've seen every time he looks at me. He flicks the carabiners again, and my eyes follow the path of his fingers. Something hanging from one of the metal loops catches the light, glinting and throwing white-dotted reflections against the rock and my own skin. I swallow; my throat is suddenly dry. I ask him again.

He unclips the lock gate, and my eyes flick back to the paper. The words have become blurry, swimming on the page. I blink, and a drop falls, blurring the lines of the plotted route.

"Bella," he says, his voice steady and calm. "You found me when I was at a point in my life where I thought I'd have to make do forever. I was simply existing, following a carefully planned path. It was like I needed beta to attempt anything, and if the risk was too high, I never even tried." He takes a breath before he speaks again. "You made me want to try. You made me realize that the biggest risk brings the biggest reward."

He takes my chalked left hand, leaving the trembling paper shaking in my right. "You are my biggest risk, Bella. You make me want to on-sight every aspect of my life." I'm sure my heart stops when he sinks to one knee.

Unable to speak, I glance back at the paper.

**Route:** _Marry me, Bella (5.8)_

**First**:_ (and hopefully your last and only) Edward Cullen_

His voice seems to speak from the page. I let the paper fall to the ground, and I keep my gaze on his eyelids, the green hidden as he slides the platinum band onto my finger, the emerald-cut diamond standing out against my skin.

Tears continue to well in my eyes as I reach into my chalk bag. Tracing the letters on the rock, I barely finish the last one before Edward's arms are around me and his lips are pressed and moving against mine.

_Yes._

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. For such a wordy b*tch, I don't really have any right now. I couldn't wrap up *everything* in this epi, so there's a futuretake to come. But essentially, this story is complete.

I crow about it every chapter, but there are only so many ways you can say _thank you._ I'm so incredibly lucky to have a close team around me. Bear with me, okay?

**mcc101180 and RaindropSoup**—my girls on the other side of the globe. The effort you put into making my, and so many other authors, work better is truly a credit to this whole thing we call our fandom. Thanks for talking me down from the edge, helping me understand writer's block, schooling me in all things American, and continuously reminding me that you don't need a comma before "before" (although I forget every time). It is a testament to you both that when I compared the bubbles on this most recent chapter with the first I submitted to PTB, I've learned so much.

Thanks to **Louisemc86** for reading each chapter and keeping me company on twitter. I've enjoyed our chats, and have loved seeing you flail over the Dozer.

I don't have enough words for how much I love **TwiSNFan**. What began with, "aren't you from Queensland?" ended with "Oh my god, it's _you!" _And you know what? I _am_ glad it's you. Strangely enough, of all the TwiH00rs in the world, who'd have thought that the one that offered to pre-read a little nobody's story would be a girl I've known for twenty-two years. Lisa, you are the ultimate secret keeper, and I love you for it.

To everybody who has read, reviewed, pimped, PM'd, and generally given me a chance—I can't say how much I appreciate it. Thanks especially to the girls at The Lemonade Stand for nominating YD for Fic of the Week a coupla times, and to the girls at Rob Attack for including me in your Aussie authors special.

Thank you for taking this journey with me. Follow me on twitter or come and join my Facebook group (link on my profile) to be updated on my future forays into fic...I've a few planned.

Love,

Mag xx


	23. Futuretake: Ascent

**A/N: **Thanks and love to M, R, L and L.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Chalky and the Dozer are mine.

* * *

**Futuretake**

**Ascent** - A completed climb.

Edward set the baby carrier down on the dining table and takes two steps back to stand beside me. Reaching up, he rubs his neck with an open palm. From the corner of my eye, I can his shoulders rise and fall with his breath. He peeks across at me. "Now what?"

I shake my head slowly, my eyes never leaving the face of the tiny person who's fast asleep and bundled up on our dining room table. I whisper back, "I have no idea."

"He's sleeping," he says, ever observant. "We could—"

A thought occurs to me, and I panic a little. "Do you think we should just leave him here? I mean "—I wave my hand a little frantically— "he's on our dining table."

Edward answers confidently, as if he's proud to be able to know _something_. "He's not going to go anywhere."

In my chest, my heart skips. "But what if he falls off? Maybe he'll wriggle. The carrier could move." I wring my hands together. "He could fly right off the table!"

Edward considers my outburst for a moment before responding. "We could put him on the floor."

"What?" I whisper-shout, my eyes flick to him. "You can't put the baby on the floor!"

"Why not?" he asks. "When they're bigger, that's where they spend most of their time anyway. Look at Lily. She's always on the floor."

"Yeah…" My tone is a little argumentative. "But she's always on a rug or _something_."

"So we put the carrier on the rug."

I consider it. It sounds logical. "Okay."

Edward picks up the carrier and sets it on the floor by the couch—on the rug. He looks at me, his green eyes questioning. "Better?"

Nodding, I take a seat, gingerly, on the couch by the carrier. "Yes." I tip my head back and receive the kiss he places on my lips. "Much. Thank you."

Edward carefully steps around the sleeping baby and sits by me, the couch sinking a little with his weight. I take advantage of the dip and snuggle in next to him. He traces a finger along the inside of my arm. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. Tired. I haven't been sleeping well."

He presses a kiss to my temple. "That's understandable," he replies, his voice soft.

"But I wasn't expecting it to be quite like this."

Edward uses his patient doctor voice. "You're recovering from surgery."

"I know." I smile sadly. "It _is_ better than before, but it still hurts."

"It'll heal," he tells me confidently. "You'll be as strong as ever before you know it."

Rolling my eyes, I can't help but smile. "Yes, _Doctor_."

I let myself sink farther into his side and close my eyes, inhaling the concentrated scent of him that permeates his clothes and now delicately looms in our shared home. Taking a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh, I find a smile spreading across my cheeks in contentment.

"You okay?" he asks tenderly.

"Yeah," I murmur back, still smiling. I let my thumb absently run along my left ring finger, and I'm hit with that same initial panic I have every time I do this and find it absent.

Edward notices my muscles tense and lightly grips my shoulder. "Miss them?" he asks, his hand trailing down my arm. He ever-so-gently picks up my left arm at the elbow and runs his long fingers along my hand. He chuckles a little. "I'd been so worried about getting you to wear one in the first place."

My body warms at the memory of the day he asked me to marry him and the love-wrapped week we'd spent together afterward. "I love it. I love both of them. I never wanted to take them off."

He lets his fingers wander to the chain around my neck, where my engagement and wedding rings gently clink against each other. "You're still wearing them. Just not as they were intended."

"It's not _my_ fault. The swelling…"

He chuckles against my ear. "I know," he says. "God, the fight you put up when they tried to take those off you."

"They wanted to cut them off!" I reply in a hushed shriek, conscious of the sleeping baby at our feet. He stirs but doesn't wake.

I feel the rumble in Edward's chest that tells me he's stifling his laughter. "The funniest part was when you threatened to offer the same courtesy to the treating doctor. Except in reference to his balls."

My cheeks flush at the memory, although it's clouded by pain and morphine. "Yeah, not the best thing to say to your father-in-law."

"Ah," he says, a little dismissively. "He could see the humor."

"So I keep being reminded," I reply, my tone just a little grumpy. "Every other weekend."

"Oh, love," Edward says quietly. "What's one more scar, eh?" Soft lips linger on my temple, then my cheekbone. I turn my body just as his lips find mine. Our lips begin their familiar dance, and I moan. The sound spurs him on; he gently tries to twist me farther, leaning into me so I'm being pressed against the cushions. He hits an awkward spot, and I wince.

Remorse covers his face. "Ugh, Bella. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I reassure him. "I'm fine."

"I hate seeing you in pain." His eyes blaze into mine. His look causes me pain all of my own.

I cup his cheek, willing the tortured look to slip from his face. "Edward," I tell him with every ounce of love I have for this beautiful man. "I'm okay. Honestly."

His eyes close, and I see his eyelids flicker. When he opens them again, I can tell he's calmed down. I smile at him. "I love you."

Edward gives me one more kiss for good measure. "I love you, too."

Before he can deepen the kiss, a soft cry interrupts us. My love's head drops to my shoulder, and I hear him groan. When he lifts his head up, he looks as though he wants to run. "Why did we say we'd do this again?"

Giving him a gentle push, I sit up straight. "Because this is a big night for Jasper, and we promised them an evening off. They'll be back soon." I reach down to pick up Baby Austin, but Edward rests his hand over mine, stopping me.

"No lifting, remember?" he says, gently squeezing my non-injured arm. I roll my eyes but let him scoop up Austin instead. Then, I pretty much melt, because the sight of Edward holding a twelve-week-old baby? Instant ovary explosion.

Rising from my seat, I gesture toward the kitchen. "I'll get his bottle." Edward nods, his eyes never leaving his godson's face. I step around the couple of boxes that have been stacked by the expansive new island bench, and I manage to fill the electric kettle one-handed—something I've gotten down to a fine art since I broke my arm. With my damaged wing and how busy Edward has been at the hospital lately, we just haven't gotten around to unpacking these.

Once the kettle has boiled, I warm Austin's bottle as Alice showed me. Carrying it into the living room, I grab a burp cloth from the diaper bag we left on the dining table—yeah, I learned that lesson the hard way—and settle back on the couch. Edward places the baby boy in my arms, and I hold the bottle in my weakened hand. It's ridiculous—I can easily climb 5.10s, but I was brought down to earth by an over-enthusiastic eight-year-old, her dad, and a pile of wet leaves. Now for the time being, climbing is out, but holding a bottle, I can do.

"They're amazing, aren't they? So tiny," I remark, my attention on Austin's tiny lips sucking hungrily.

"Yeah," murmurs Edward. He sits on the coffee table. "I remember Bree being little, but I didn't have too much to do with her until she got older. I guess I wasn't in that headspace."

"And what headspace is that?" I ask, and I can feel a pulling at the edge of my lips.

"The stage where I could imagine wanting one myself," he says matter-of-factly. The ease at which the words tumble does _something_ to me. He regards me carefully, a soft smile on his lips. "Soon, though?"

I nod. "I know it can take a while. I mean, look at Rose and Emmett. And it took Alice and Jasper a year." I glance up at him and quirk an eyebrow. "Just means lots of practice, right?"

Edward's eyes darken, and this _so_ isn't the time. I tear my gaze away from him and look back down at the baby, his little hands wrapped around the bottle, and I sigh. Between Lily, who's at that super-cute, getting-into-everything stage, and this little one, it's safe to say I've caught baby fever.

By the time Austin is fed, diapered, and sleeping, cradled against a dozing Edward's chest, I'm standing in front of the large picture window and looking out at our darkened backyard. I remember nights spent living out of a bag between my place and Edward's, before the bag got left behind and most of my stuff started being more permanently stored at his. Then after that, when my lease came up and it seemed logical for me to move into his place. What we hadn't expected was to drive past the most perfect house on our way back from a trip one weekend, that just happened to have a For Sale sign out front. We went back the next day after work to look through it and signed the papers that evening.

Esme oversaw the redecorating as a wedding present, and it was ready for us to move in right after our honeymoon. I smile at the reflection of the staircase in the glass.

.

"_And as you can see, the polished boards extend through the living areas. I know they're a little roughed-up, but with a little TLC…" The agent's shoes echo hollowly off the walls of the empty rooms leading off the entry hall. _

_Edward snorts and mutters under his breath. "Or a bulldozer." I erupt into giggles, and the agent gives me a strange look before he continues his spiel._

"_The kitchen was remodelled, but unfortunately that's about as far as the owners got. The Pacific Northwest didn't really suit their lifestyle. They wanted somewhere sunnier, which is why this place is such a steal."_

_I internally roll my eyes, knowing he'll say anything to get us to buy this place. I'm not going to be pushed—it has to be right for us. I really just want this guy to fuck off and let us look around. _

_Wandering into the living room, I stand beneath the ornate, wrought-iron light fixture that hangs from the center of the room before I slowly turn around. The room is quite lovely. It's been painted a dark, muddy brown, but I'm sure with lighter colors, it could feel so much bigger. Opposite the entry to this room is a window that looks toward the side of the house. Because the drive didn't come past here, it could be teeny—it's impossible to tell with the heavy, red, velvet drapes covering it. Feeling bold, I walk over and wrench back the curtains, and light creeps across the floor, illuminating the room. It makes the space look completely different. _

_The sound of footsteps walking toward the downstairs office tells me the agent has accosted Edward, so while I leave him to deal with _this_ guy, I decide to check out the upstairs. _

_The staircase, which begins near the front door, has a welcoming railing stretching beside it. Placing my foot on the first step and my hand on the railing, I look up. A large window sits at the landing, sending warm light down to hit my face. Being able to see the cloud-mottled sky above hits me right in the chest, and I know._

_A staircase just sold me this house._

_._

A soft knock at the door catches my attention. Padding past Edward and Austin, I creep to the door. Through the stained glass window inlayed into the door, I see Jasper and the top of Alice's head.

"Hey," I greet them in hushed tones. "Come in. How was it?"

"Really great," Alice replies, her voice equally quiet. As she steps through the doorway, she smiles proudly up at her husband. "Jasper was so good. His speech was excellent."

Jasper comes in, ducking his head. He stands awkwardly in the foyer, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants and rocking on his heels. He's got the bashful thing down pat. "I just spoke on behalf of everybody."

"Don't be modest!" Alice slips out of her coat and hangs it on a hook by the door. She quickly inspects her dress, making sure no drops of water have fallen from her coat to the fabric. "It was your project…your idea. The mayor said so himself—it's been a great thing."

Jasper blushes, which is pretty funny to be honest. For all his southern bravado and comfort with working with some of the toughest kids in Seattle, he's a pussycat. He knows the value of the program he and Jake started years ago, but as is his style, he's reluctant to take all the credit.

Leading them into the living room and assuring them that, really, Austin was no problem, Alice pauses at the sight of my husband on the couch, one foot on the coffee table, head back and mouth open, with the baby boy sleeping on his chest. She lets out a high-pitched squeak, which causes Edward to jerk his head up with a snort.

"What?" he says. He looks blearily up at Alice and Jasper. "Oh hi, guys."

After gathering up Austin's things and agreeing to meet tomorrow afternoon at Emmett's gym, we wave from the porch as Alice and Jasper head home. Edward wraps his arm around my waist, hoisting me briefly as we walk through the doorway, and he slams the heavy wood behind us. I elbow him in the side. "Put me down."

"Okay," he says, setting my feet back on the floor but shifting me so he can wrap both arms around me. "We survived," he says, sounding a little surprised.

"Of course we did," I tell him. "You were so good with Austin."

Edward shrugs. "I didn't do much. I just held him, and he went to sleep."

I smile up at him. "You made him feel safe." I inch up on my toes to kiss him. "Like you do for me." I give him another kiss. "I'm going to put the house to bed."

"I'll do it," he tells me, letting his hands trail on my waist as he lets me go. "You go get ready for bed." I watch him as he heads in the direction of the kitchen, and I smile to myself. It's just like they say about hating to say goodbye, but liking to watch them leave.

As cute as Austin is, I don't know if it's the stress of looking after somebody else's child, how busy I've been at work, or the fact that I'm injured that causes me to be so exhausted, but I'm fast asleep before Edward comes to bed.

-~[YD]~-

"Mmm," I hum appreciatively as I wander into the kitchen. Edward looks over his shoulder as I wrap my arms around him, careful not to aggravate my injury. I kiss him between his shoulder blades. "Something smells good."

"Morning, sleepy head," he greets me, and I'm _so_ glad that I'm the lucky girl who gets to wake up to that smile for the rest of her life. "I thought I'd make you breakfast." He lifts his arm; I duck under, and he holds me close. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I mentally try to decide what smells better—breakfast or him. "Coffee's ready," he murmurs.

I inhale once more before freeing myself of his embrace and wander over to the coffee pot. As the aroma hits me, I immediately screw up my nose. "Actually, I think I'm going to have herbal tea."

Edward raises an eyebrow. "Tea?"

Digging through the cupboard, I find the canister of tea. "Yeah."

"Okay." I all but hear him shrug. "Breakfast's just about done."

Busying myself one-handed with the teapot, I set myself up at the island and reach for the newspaper. Although I write for the online section, there's just _something_ about sitting down to breakfast with the Sunday paper. I pull out the Outdoors section to read Alec's column, and Edward places a plate in front of me before dragging a stool closer to me and sifting through until he finds the Sports section.

We enjoy our breakfast in peace, although I find myself eating around my eggs—they're as appealing as coffee at the moment—and when we're done, he swivels my stool around so my legs are settled between his. Edward leans forward to rub my nose against his.

"What time did we say we'd meet the others?"

"Not until after lunch," I tell him. "Rose and Em are having lunch at his parents' house then heading into the gym later. Laurent's opening."

"We could go early, if you like," Edward asks, rising from his seat and taking my plate. I rest my chin on my hand as he slots the dishes into the dishwasher. "I wouldn't mind getting in a climb first."

Shrugging, I stand up. I'll be relegated to watching, but I know he's been itching to climb all week. Those extra shifts at the hospital made sure that didn't happen though. I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Sure. Let me get myself organized."

I head upstairs to freshen up. After brushing my hair and letting it fall around my shoulders, I grab my sneakers from our closet and throw a wistful look in the direction of my climbing shoes. As pinchingly uncomfortable they are, I really miss them.

.

"_Alice, I love you, but my Five Tens are more comfortable than these."_

"_You are not wearing your climbing shoes to your wedding." Alice holds my hand as I stand on my feet. I bite back the scowl that comes with the expectation that I need to wear heels *this* high to my own wedding._

"_I should have just gotten married on the beach." I sigh dramatically. "Tanya had the right idea." I hitch my dress up a little so I don't trip over it and tentatively walk toward the mirror. I've done as I was told and practiced walking around in these enough that I hopefully shouldn't face-plant as I walk down the aisle, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious._

_The girl in the mirror is familiar, but it's like she's been smoothed out. The rough edges have been polished, and hair that's usually pulled back into a neat ponytail has been artfully sculptured and pinned, held in place with a simple waist-length veil. Nestled amongst the curls above her right ear is her grandmother's diamond clip. _

_I notice in my reflection that my mouth is slightly agape. The dress my mom helped my pick out a few months ago skims my body, sliding over my hips and flaring at the bottom. There's nothing over the top about it—it's simple and makes me feel elegant. _

"_Wow, Bells." I catch my dad in the reflection, standing just behind me. He looks a little uncomfortable, yet very dapper, in his tuxedo. I smile at him, and my breath catches a little at his expression. When I turn to face him, his mustache twitches, and brown eyes that match mine quickly avert my gaze. _

"_Dad?" I ask tentatively._

"_It's all these damn flowers," he answers gruffly. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly dabs his face. "You know. Allergies."_

_I feel a prickle behind my own eyes. "Yeah." I sniff. "Damn allergies."_

"_C'mere." Charlie pulls me into him, hugging me close, and I let myself be enveloped by his warm embrace. The familiar scent of peppermint and the same spicy cologne that he's worn all my life surrounds me, and I breathe it in. My dad murmurs into my hair. "You'll always be my little girl."_

_I will the tears not to fall. "I know, Dad."_

"_He's a good man, Bells." He pulls back to hold me at arm's length. It's clear his "allergies" are really giving him hell. So are mine. The mustache hides his smile, but his eyes give him away. "I'm proud of you, and he's a good man. He'll look after you."_

_If I try to speak, I'll dissolve. I can only nod.]_

_._

Edward places a protective arm around me as we hurry to the door of the gym, trying in vain to avoid the steady rain that pelts around us. He gives it a shove, and the warm air, pungent with the smell of rubber and sweat, hits us full force.

It makes my stomach lurch.

I feel prickles on the back of my neck, and I begin to sway.

"Hey, are you okay?" asks Edward, steadying me. "Is it your arm?"

"No." I dab my forehead with the back of my hand. "Just felt woozy for a minute."

"Come on." Edward nods at the familiar face behind the desk. "Buzz us through?"

"Sure." Garrett hits the button, and the gate swings open. "You okay, Bella?"

"Yeah," I tell him. "Just tired. I've been busy lately."

Garrett raises an eyebrow and gives me a grin. "Right."

Flopping onto one of the couches in the lounge area, I grab the _Outdoors_ magazine from the table and settle in to flip through it. After reassuring Edward that I'm fine and will head up to the cave later, I lose myself in an article about ice climbing in Canada.

A little while later, the chatter of a distinctive little girl's voice drifts over to me. A smile teases my lips. "Bella! Hi! How are you? Is your arm sore? I can't believe you had to have an operation. Did you get a cast? Can I draw on it? Does your arm work, or is it like Daddy's now?"

As Bree continues to fire questions at me, I can't help but laugh. I know she doesn't expect me to answer all of them, but I try to pick a couple.

"I'm okay," I assure her. "My arm is okay, I just needed some plates put in. I'll be good as new in no time and be back climbing real soon."

She sighs dramatically. "Phew! I'm gonna go climb now, okay?"

"Edward's upstairs in the cave," I tell her. "I'll be up in a bit."

From my comfy position, I wave to Kate as she follows Bree up the stairs to the mezzanine floor. Before I can pick up my magazine again, Emmett's booming voice sounds through the gym. I swear he practices, just to hear the sound of his own voice echoing in the vast space. "Good afternoon, everybody!"

"Emmett, must you announce your arrival every time?" Rose comes in a few steps behind him with Lily settled on her hip, the little girl balanced around Rose's growing belly. He plants a kiss on both his girls' foreheads before dropping one to his unborn son then sliding in behind the counter to chat with Garrett. Emmett and Rose have a great thing going—they share the responsibilities of raising Lily, and Garrett came on to help manage the gym. Garrett is doing a business course, and the gym is really taking off now that he's on board.

Emmett swears to never let the gym grow into a pretentious multiplex though. Garrett agrees, and I'm happy that as long as these guys are in charge, RockFace will be the second home I've come to know and love.

After settling Lily into the dedicated, fenced-in play area near the couches, Rose plops down next to me. We chat until, soon enough, Jasper and Alice arrive, with Austin tucked up in his carrier. When Edward comes down, Bree latched onto his back, they head over to climb some of the longer routes near where we're sitting. The guys start climbing some of the new routes that have been set in the last few weeks. Over the course of the next half hour, they collect a couple of randoms to the group, which is pretty typical for here—word has traveled in the climbing community that RockFace is a great place to hang out, find some new climbing partners, and make friends.

As Edward tackles the new route, "Payback's a Bitch," I watch his frustration grow. I giggle every time I see them attempt it—the new kid Emmett brought on fixed it a month ago, and Edward still hasn't ticked it.

The new kid is also twenty bucks richer than he was before he set the route, too.

"Are you coming in for a massage this week?" Rose asks, passing a cracker over to Lily. The little girl happily grabs it then wanders off to color with Bree.

"Yeah, I'm booked for Tuesday," I reply. "Something about stopping the scar tissue?"

We continue to catch up, and Alice is still buzzing from the excitement of having Austin and Rose's baby so close in age. I can't help but feel a little left out as the girls all toss around pregnancy stories, but I know Edward and I have only been trying for a little while—since just before I broke my arm. Our time will come.

I excuse myself to use the bathroom—for about the fifteenth time today. As I'm on my way back out to the chill-out area, I nearly get knocked over by a guy. Keeping my head down, I mutter my apologies as I take a few steps away.

"Bella?"

The familiar voice causes me to whip my head around. The face looking back at me is rounder than I remember, hard angles replaced by soft, slightly pudgy edges. The hair is thinner, but that same cliche, climbing gym fashion sense remains.

"What are you doing here, Tyler?"

He puffs out his chest, hitching the waistband on his harness higher in a move I'm sure he thinks accentuates his physique. It makes him look like a douche. "I heard this was a cool place to climb. I'm here for a conference this week."

The years haven't been kind to my ex-boyfriend. Looking at him now, I wonder what the hell I ever saw in him. "Okay then." I roll my eyes and walk away. "Seeya."

"Wait." Not getting the hint, he grabs my good arm. I turn and glare at him until he lets go. "How've you been?" He hitches his harness again. He's going to cut something off if he's not careful. "You're looking good."

Stifling the snort that I really want to let out, because he really_ doesn't, _I wave in the vague area of the couches. "I better get back."

"You're not married." He states this as if it's fact and completely understandable. I want to hit him, but I keep my expression neutral. I don't want him to know anything about me—and I have no desire to spell out the depth of my love for Edward to _this guy._ He doesn't get to know me, and he couldn't possibly fathom what Edward is to me.

_._

"_I'm nervous." I fidget, twisting my bouquet in my fingers. It's more a long stem of a couple of flowers than a bouquet—yeah, I learned that lesson from Alice's wedding. _

"_You'll be fine, sweetie." Rose rests a gentle hand on my arm. She glances at my dad. "Isn't that right, Chief?"_

_Charlie nods gruffly. "I got ya, kiddo."_

_Alice pops back through the door. "It's time," she announces cheerily. She gives me a quick hug, and she and Rose straighten each other's dresses. I give them a smile as the sounds of the string quartet drift through the open windows._

"_Okay," I tell my dad. "Let's do this."_

_I grip his arm as we walk down the stairs, through the entry hall, and out onto the porch. The ever-constant threat of rain on the Olympic Peninsula meant that we've brought the ceremony onto the wide porch. It's okay—there aren't too many of us._

_My eyes scan across the top of the heads of the people seated. Every person I love is here, and the thought makes my heart swell. When I round the corner, the one I love most of all is waiting for me. The man who was the strongest I knew in my childhood passes my hand to the man who will be my rock forever._

_While my heart flies as though it could break its confines and leave my chest, I've never felt more grounded in my life._

_._

I suppose he thinks I didn't hear him, because he looks as though he's going to ask me again. I decide to save him the trouble. "What makes you think I'm not married?"

Tyler looks smug when he glances pointedly at my left hand. "No ring."

A violent burst of giggles simmers in my chest. Seriously, _what did I see in this guy?_

For starters, I'm in a climbing gym. Wearing rings when climbing pretty much _screams_ degloving injury. And add that to the fact that my left arm is obviously bandaged…

Yep. The guy is completely clueless.

"What happened to Lauren?" I ask bluntly.

He visibly flinches, and his gaze drops to the floor. "She left."

I can't help but be a little ruthless. This guy's a nobody, and the sting has long faded, but I ask anyway. "Where'd she go?"

Tyler shifts his feet—he's no longer trying to puff out his chest. "She…um…left me for our snorkelling instructor."

I'm surprised. No, I'm not. I'm completely unsurprised. "Oh."

"We were on our honeymoon."

This time, I cough to cover the incredulous laugh that I almost bark. I need to get out of here.

"Well," I say, hooking my thumb over my shoulder. "I better go. My friends are…"

"Oh. Oh, cool." He's back to peacocking as he follows me.

Ignoring him, I wander back to the couches and resume my seat beside Rose. She adjusts her position to rub her lower back. "Who's this?"

Stupidly oblivious to Rose's obviously pregnant state, he turns on the charm. He shifts forward, extending his hand for her to shake. "I'm Tyler."

"Tyler?" Rose, already reaching for his outstretched hand, glances at me. I quickly nod, and she suddenly sneezes into her palm. I swear I hear "_asshole"_ slip out. She smiles sweetly, reclining back on the couch and holding up her hand in mock apology. "Sorry."

He hitches his harness. "No problem."

Alice is standing by the couch, cradling Austin as she rocks slowly. "Tyler from Arizona?"

"Yeah, Bella and I went to college in Arizona." _Harness hitch._ "But I live in California now. I moved there with my wi—I mean…for my job."

Kate tilts her head toward mine, tucking her head into her shoulder. She almost looks like a bird taking a nap. "Who's Tyler?"

"Ex," I reply simply. Her eyes widen, and I know she knows who he is because she crosses her arms across her chest and glares at him.

Normally chatty Alice is quiet, but Rose opens her mouth to speak. She's interrupted by Emmett's arrival.

"Hey, girls." He walks over to the playpen, leaning over to lift Lily onto his shoulders. She squeals in delight. "What's happening?" His attention shifts to Tyler, who's still standing with his hands on hips. Next to Emmett, Tyler looks weedy—well, as weedy as one can look with a potbelly. "I'm Emmett." He extends his hand, his dimples in place.

"Tyler." His grip is dwarfed in Emmett's, but he puts all his strength into the handshake in what seems like a crazy, pointless pissing contest. _Again, what was I thinking?_ "I'm a friend of Bella's."

_Friend?_

At this, my jaw drops and I see Rose grip the arm of the couch tighter. Kate snorts, and Alice maintains her steely gaze. She's normally very chatty, but she still hasn't said a word.

Emmett, however, is oblivious, and he continues talking. "So, you're here to climb?"

"Yeah," he says, shifting his weight. "I heard I could climb here if I didn't have a partner."

Nobody says anything. I'm kinda hoping he'll get the message and leave. He doesn't. I'm not expecting to hear what comes next.

"I'll belay for you."

I turn wide-eyed, where Rose is trying to push herself up from the low couch. Tyler looks equally as stunned.

"Rosie?" Emmett's voice shows his concern. "Ah, you shouldn—"

"I'll do it!" Alice, finally having found her voice, is holding Austin out to Kate. "Here, hold the baby!"

"No, _I'll _belay for you." Kate holds her hand out. "Let me get my har—"

"It's fine!" Rose's voice is now rising in pitch—a trait I've come to know accompanies fury. She successfully gets herself up from the couch, waddling a little to steady her feet. "I said I'll _happily_ do it!" The words practically drip in oozy, sarcastic strings from her mouth. Yep, she's pissed all right.

"Whoa, ladies. Not all at once!" Tyler is completely oblivious to the fact that these women would probably rather see him plummet to earth rather than catch him if he fell. "You can take turns."

I can't help it—this cracks me the hell up. Rose is obviously _very_ pregnant, Alice is holding a very young baby, and Kate has been alternating between talking to her daughter and making eyes at the guy behind the counter—_her husband._

And still, Tyler is completely clueless. He seriously thinks they want him.

I laugh harder.

"Baby?" My husband's familiar voice comes from behind me, and two strong hands are placed on my shoulder. His breath is warm on my cheek. "Everything all right?" He easily leaps the couch and sits beside me, taking up the space that Rose vacated.

My arms are wrapped around my stomach, and tears are beginning to stream down my cheeks. When I open my eyes to see Rose trying to wrench a harness over her legs, the more hysterical my giggles become.

"Rose…belay…_him!"_ I fight to get the words out between gasps. I'm making no sense at all, and I find it even funnier. I need to stop laughing—I'm beginning to feel ill. When I look at Alice, she's shrieking for Jasper, holding Austin in his direction. Kate, having clearly declined Alice's request, is over by the counter, begging Garrett to loan her a harness.

"What's going on?" Edward asks, taking in the mania unfolding in front of him. I begin wheezing, desperately trying to get my laughter under control. The sight of a smug-looking Tyler, cockily standing feet apart, his belly bulging unattractively over his harness and the light bouncing off the sweat sheen through his receding hairline, is almost my undoing.

"_He_…" I point at him "…wants someone to belay him. And _they…_" I wave in the general direction of my friends "…are all dying to do it." I take a deep breath and wipe my eyes. "But I'm pretty sure if they do, they'll let him crater anyway!" The visual, as inappropriate as it is, makes me start to giggle again. With the size that Tyler is now—particularly around the middle—he'd surely leave a hell of a crater if he fell.

Edward places an arm around my shoulders and loops his fingers under my shirt, finding the chain that holds my rings. As he absently plays with the chain, he looks up at Tyler. "Who are you?"

Tyler, eyeing the way Edward is cuddled against me, doesn't extend his hand. "I'm Tyler."

"Fuck that," I hear my husband mutter. Then his voice grows louder, "I'm Edward—Bella's husband. And I'll belay for you."

My ex's eyes become as round as saucers for a moment, and when he looks at me, I _know_ he's figured out that all of my friends know what happened between us. When Edward stands up to face him, he takes in the sight of my tall, strong, _fit_ husband, and he blanches. He glances at his wrist, checking the time on a watch that isn't there, and I know that look—I've climbed with him enough times. He knows he's beaten, and he's going to bail.

"Actually, I have to get back to the hotel. You know…things…um…nice seeing you, Bella."

My husband sits back down next to me, and my eyes are only for him. I lift my non-injured hand in a wave that is more of a dismissal than a farewell, and I gaze into the deep green eyes of my love. He looks at me just the same, and everything slots into place—it all makes sense. I feel it right through my body that this is the beginning of something big. As our friends laugh and boisterously debrief the madness that just occurred, I take his hand in mine and rest it across my middle.

.

"_Wait!" I hear our suitcases drop and Edward's feet crunch on the gravel of the drive as he runs to wraps his arms around me, right as I'm about to set my foot on the first stair. "Let me do this right!"_

_I can't help but squeal as my feet are swept from under me as he scoops me up. It's accurate, because this time three weeks ago, that's what I was. I giggle as the movement brings back a memory. "You've done this before," I tell him. "The night I sprained my ankle at the gym."_

"_And a few times since then," he reminds me, cradling me close and stepping up the four steps to the porch._

"_Hmm…" From where I am, I'm in the perfect position to press a kiss under his jaw. "By memory, the position is usually different."_

"_Mrs. Cullen," he says, his tone low. "Are you teasing me?"_

"_Teasing would imply I don't intend on following though."_

_He chuckles and regrips, easily shifting me so he can reach out to turn the key in the lock. Cracking the door, he kicks it open the rest of the way. His face is lit by the porch light. "Are you ready?" Edward stares at me intently. "Are you ready for rest of our life together?"_

_I smile at him. "I can't wait to start."_

_Taking a confident step forward, my husband carries me over the threshold._

_._

"What is it?" Edward asks. I watch his lips and then watch them curve when I tell him what I just figured out. The tiredness, the late-night bathroom trips, the sensitivity to smell, the nausea—it all makes sense.

"I think I'm pregnant."

-~[YD]~-

The sound of a babbling through the monitor wakes me. At least, I'm pretty sure I'm awake.

"He's asking for you." I poke my husband in the side then roll back over. I feel like I only just fell asleep.

"He's not." Edward's voice is muffled as his face is pressed into the pillow. "He just says _da-da-da _because it's the only thing he knows how to say."

I sigh deeply. "That's not what you were telling me last week." I smile at the memory—Edward offered to buy Anthony his own climbing rack if he said _daddy_ first. Our son is ten months old. "At least he's happy when he wakes." I give Edward another nudge. "Not like somebody else I know."

Edward rolls over me, brushing my hair back from my face and kissing my neck. "I was up late last night." I moan a little as his mouth moves down my throat. "You kept me awake."

I let my eyes fall closed at the memory. Edward's mouth on me. His fingers inside me. His hands, cradling me, as his hips hit mine over and over and over…

"You weren't complaining," I tell him, as his hands slide under my shirt. His kisses move to my belly, and I feel myself start to heat. As much as he turns me on, the sound of my son's cheerful chatter is too much to ignore. The next sound kills my buzz completely.

"Mommy? Is Daddy playing hide and seek?"

I feel my cheeks heat as Edward chuckles. I pull at him to bring him up to a more G-rated level.

At least, a _different_ G-rating to the one he found last night.

"No, darling," I tell my daughter. "He's just being silly." I straighten my shirt as Edward adjusts himself under the covers. I smirk at him. At least the evidence of my own excitement is hidden from our almost three year old's curious eyes. I pull the covers back on my side so she can climb in.

"Good morning, my green-eyed Gabby." Edward's voice holds the warmth it always does when he speaks to our daughter. It was there the moment he first held her in his arms, and it's been there ever since. Gabrielle has him completely wrapped around her little finger.

She crawls over me to hug him tightly. I leave them cuddled up, with her reminding him that it's her birthday in a week and that she'd like pink balloons and a cake.

When I step into the room that has _Anthony_ emblazoned on the door in cheerful-colored letters, I find my son in his crib, lying on his back, kicking happily, and inspecting his own fingers. When his big brown eyes lock on mine, he breaks into one of his delicious, whole-face-encompassing smile. I pick him up, cooing and smelling his sweet scent. When I arrive back at our bedroom, my boy cradled close to me, I catch my daughter asking Edward to again tell her favorite story.

"Once upon a time, there was a sad, grumpy man." Gabby giggles. "The grumpy man was very lonely and spent his time doing things that filled in his life_. _One day, he went to visit his friends—they used to tolerate him because they knew him before he was grumpy."

I smile as I watch Edward's fingers interlaced with our daughter's. They share the same eyes and the same hands—a feature I love on them both.

"Why was he so grumpy, Daddy?" asks Gabby, her expression curious, although she's heard this story so many times.

"Ah," Edward replies, his tone conspiratorial. "Because he hadn't yet met _her."_

"Ooh," Gabby says in a hushed voice. "Was she a princess?"

Edward chuckles. "No," he tells her. He gazes at me, and I smile as I hold Anthony close. "But she didn't need to be. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Daddy?" Gabby tilts her head to look at her father. My heart beats purely for the people on this bed. "Did they live happily ever after?"

Edward's eyes never leave mine. "Baby," he tells her. "He was happy for every day after he met her. And the best part?" He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "She made him _live._"

* * *

**A/N: **And they all lived happily ever after :) Thank you for reading. Come find me on twitter and Facebook. There's a link to my group, MagTwi78's Words, on my profile.

**2 April 2013:** Yosemite Decimal has been nominated for the Top 10 Completed Fics for March. Hit me up with a vote? Kill the spaces:

twifanfictionrecs com/ 2013/ 04/ 01/ vote-for-your-top-ten-completed-fics-march-2013/

**Definitions: **

Gabby: A young female climber who shows great potential in climbing


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